


Physics of the Spin

by Mhalachai



Category: Gilmore Girls, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 125,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mhalachai/pseuds/Mhalachai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rory Gilmore always thought she was Christopher Hayden's daughter, but things are a little more complicated than that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something About Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This fic is unfinished and has not been updated since 2009; I am importing it to AO3 for archival purposes. 
> 
> _Setting_ : Begins during _The Return_ while everyone is on Earth; post-series for Gilmore Girls. This story was plotted/started before the last season of Stargate Atlantis, so events in the later part of the story are canon-divergent.
> 
> As this story was written seven years ago, there are aspects of society that are now outdated; such as reference to DADT and various pop culture references that may be too old school for you young whippersnappers in the audience.

* * *

John Sheppard let Rodney McKay ramble as they stood on the New York street, tuning out the familiar noise and instead watching the people pass them by. So many human beings, none touched by the Wraith or Replicators or all the enemies even closer to home.

It didn't seem real.

Rodney stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and carried on. It was the only thing familiar to John. Rodney talked too much and that was normal.

They were waiting for Elizabeth to finish her conversation, secret and delicate and not at all like the other conversations she'd had before leaving Earth for the first time. Now, she talked and negotiated like a very dangerous woman. John couldn't bring himself to be sorry for her lost innocence. It had saved his life, the lives of his men, far too many times.

So Rodney talked, John ignored, and they waited for Elizabeth to return. In the meantime, John watched the street and all of the ignorant people.

Someone was walking towards them. One face in the masses, but she was familiar in an impossible way. John knew he had never see this young woman before, but the tilt of her head, the cleft in her chin, John knew her.

Even more, he knew those brilliant blue eyes.

The young woman caught his gaze, wondered at his attention as she passed him by. She never even looked at Rodney.

As she turned her attention back to the road, a cyclist cut her off and she stepped back suddenly, bumping into a hot dog vendor. John stepped forward and steadied the girl before she toppled into the road.

Her cheeks burning, the girl looked up at John. She murmured an apology and stepped away, blending back into the anonymous mass of the New York street.

She hadn't noticed John as he had yanked the luggage tag from her bag.

Rodney had. His blue eyes narrowed as he glared at John. "You have got to be kidding me," he said. "We're not on a furlough! Besides, she's young enough to be your daughter."

John fingered the luggage tag. "She sure is," he muttered, tracing the loopy script that spelled out _Rory Gilmore_.

* * *

It was two weeks later when John stomped into Rodney's lab, interrupting a boring looking experiment and sending the lab techies scurrying away.

Rodney whirled, wrath on his face at whoever dare intrude into his experiment. He spotted John through the wires, and his irritation fell away into resigned acceptance. "What do you want?" he asked, turning back to his equipment.

John made a motion to the lab techs. "Hey kids, smoke break," he drawled. Within seconds, the lab emptied.

Rodney eyes John with suspicion. "What do you want?" he repeated.

John pasted an insincere smile on his face. "What were you doing in February of 1984?"

"What?" Rodney dropped his wrench. "What does that have to do with anything? I'm in the middle of a very important experiment and you just barge in here and dismiss my help--"

"They weren't doing anything," John pointed out.

"I know that! It's not the point!" Rodney turned his back on John.

"So, February of 1984?" John pressed. Rodney ignored him. "You didn't spend some time in Hartford, Connecticut?"

Rodney's fingers stopped moving on the switchboard.

John had already known the answer, but to judge from Rodney's reaction, he certainly remembered the trip.

"Just checking," John said, pushing off the wall. "Later, McKay." He left the room, leaving a confused Rodney behind.

From his meeting with Jeanie, Rodney's sister, John knew that intelligence certainly ran in the McKay family. He'd checked the girl out, top to bottom, on every database he could get into without raising suspicions. She was smart, although not as brilliant as Rodney, and her talents tended towards the arts rather than science.

And there was the fact that the girl looked so much like Rodney that it was creepy.

Even the name sounded too close. _Rory McKay_ , John sounded out in his head. It had a certain ring to it.

He continued down the hall. He was probably crazy. This was probably nothing but a coincidence.

Although if there was one thing life with the Ancient gene had taught him, there were no such things as coincidences.

No matter how much John tried, he couldn't believe that running into Rory Gilmore on the streets of New York was a coincidence.


	2. The Physics of the Spin

* * *

"What do you mean, you're not my father?"

The words fell into the silence of the room. Christopher sat slumped on the couch, hands linked loosely in his lap. He refused to look at Rory.

"Dad?"

She was an adult, twenty-four years old. She shouldn't want to curl up into a little ball and suck her thumb, but it was only with great effort that Rory didn't break down.

Everything was moving too fast. It had been one week since Christopher learned he had the same leukaemia that killed his father. Six days since Rory sat in a laboratory, staring at ugly white and blue walls, thinking about the twist of the light through air while a cold needle slid under her skin to take blood to match for a transplant.

One day since the report came back saying that Rory's bone marrow was completely incompatible with Christopher, impersonal letters dancing through the ink ripping her life to shreds.

Thirty minutes since Rory had shown up at Christopher's place to apologize for not being a match, not being able to save his life with the cells in her bones.

Three minutes since Christopher's words had turned her world into an Escher still-life.

"Daddy?"

Christopher cleared his throat. "I... hell, Rory, how am I supposed to explain this?"

He hadn't taken it back. He could have told her it was all a mistake, that he'd been pulling her leg, but he hadn't. 

Christopher Hayden had done many things as Rory grew up. He'd forgotten her birthday, he'd skipped out on showing up at her school pageants and celebrations, but he had never, ever lied to her.

That ugly fact echoed down to a narrow point of pain in Rory's head while she waited for him to speak.

"The hell with it," he muttered. He shoved his hair back from his face. "Your mom and me, we were having some problems back around the time... about ten months before you were born."

Rory would have given anything to not hear the rest of this, but her muscles had petrified under the weight of her own unfamiliar blood and she couldn't move.

"We sort of broke up for a while. I heard your mom went out with this other guy for a while, one of the Canadian exchange students at another school in town, but then we cleared things up and, well, eight and a half months later you were born. I thought..." He still wouldn't look at Rory. "You always looked so much like me, even as a baby, I never even doubted that you were mine."

Rory ran her tongue over dry lips, anything to keep herself from throwing up. "But..." She stopped, breathed in to calm the gag reflex, and tried again. "You didn't seem surprised today when I..." She couldn't even finish the sentence.

Finally, Chris looked up, and Rory saw her pain echoed in his eyes. _Not her father's eyes._

"You always were too smart to be my kid," he said, the joke falling flat as his voice cracked. 

Rory looked at her hands, faintly surprised to see the lab report ripped to shreds on her lap. There were eight little red half-moon marks on her palms, nails spotted with blood. _Not Hayden blood._ "Does Mom know?"

"I doubt it." Chris stood up unsteadily and walked to the window. "Lorelai couldn't lie about something like this. Not-- not to you. She'd never do that."

Rory carefully stacked the blood-stained paper scraps on the table. Her hands shook and she stared at her fingers. _Not Hayden hands._

She'd never had any illusions about Chris, what kind of man he was, what kind of father. He'd always tried, always cared, always loved her.

Now she had no idea who her father was, what kind of man he was. All she knew is that he was Canadian, and what was that?

But she couldn't think of that now, her conscience whispered to her in Emily's voice. She couldn't _think_.

"Rory?"

The scraps toppled to the floor as the words spilled from Rory's lips. "I'll pay you back for Yale," she blurted out. "And all the books and all the birthday presents--"

"No, Rory, stop," Chris said. He hurried across the room, but Rory was on her feet and backing away. 

"I'm _sorry_ ," she said, as if anything could make this better. 

Chris put his hands on her shoulders, and she was four years old again when a hug from Daddy would make it better. She put her arms around him, the same Dad he'd always been, but it was all a lie. 

He wasn't her dad. 

And he was still dying.

With everything she had in her, Rory managed to draw away. "So, if I'm not a donor, we need to find someone who is."

"Rory--"

"No!" She stepped back, straightening her shoulders. If she wasn't able to save Chris's life, she'd find someone who could. "I need a list of everyone you're related to and everyone they're related to and everyone they've ever met."

"Rory, please--"

"No!" Her palms stung, but she ignored the pain. "We're going to find you a donor and you'll get better and live forever! Gigi needs her father!"

The nausea was back, but as long as she stayed standing and didn't think about it, she would survive. 

Had no choice but to keep on breathing.

Chris was staring at her. Did he see her shaking? Just another lie in her life. 

_I've been a lie since before I was born,_ she thought. _That has to be some kind of record._

"And don't tell Mom," Rory whispered. Chris flinched, and closed his eyes. "She... she doesn't need to know."

_I can't have her know I'm not who she thinks I am._

* * *

She got the list of names, and spent the next three weeks on the phone with Christopher Hayden's relatives, handing out fliers in Hartford and in Star's Hollow, organizing donor awareness sessions and blood drives and everything she could do so she wouldn't have to _think_ about it.

Lorelai knew what she was doing, but not why, and if Rory got home too late and left too early to talk to Lorelai, all the better. 

At the end of those three weeks, Chris called Rory to tell her that three of his relatives and two people from Star's Hollow were potential matches, and the doctors were scheduling the next step in the transplant process. 

There was nothing else for him to say.

Rory hung up and made it to Lane's house before she broke down, crying into a pillow so she wouldn't wake the twins from their nap.

Lane asked what was wrong, but the thoughts wouldn't form into words on Rory's tongue. She was a lie.

Rory left a few minutes later, just got in her car and drove to Hartford without thinking. The main library was still open and Rory slipped though the stacks of books, deeper into the building, down stairs and into the thick concrete rooms of the archives. 

Once upon a time, Rory had loved these sort of rooms, had spent breathless hours reading old newspapers, seeing the stories of past lives shivering through the fading ink on the pages. Now she choked on the thick air, the whispery smell of the newspaper like decay in her mouth.

The newspapers from the beginning of 1984 were supposed to make things better, but it only took Rory two hours to find proof of her life's lie. In January, 1984, four Canadian exchange students visited the top technical school in Hartford for a month. The paper had featured a grainy black and white picture of the four at some kind of competition, even including their names.

Whatever ambiguity there may have been vanished as Rory stared at the names. Two lovely girls and one beautiful boy with gleaming dark skin were on one side of the photograph, away and apart from the other boy.

_Rodney McKay._

Rory stared at the photograph of her father at sixteen, a scream building in her head. It was like staring into a mirror, his face was so familiar. 

_Alice, through the looking glass,_ Rory thought dully. Moving on auto-pilot, Rory convinced the archival clerk to photocopy the picture for her. She folded the paper into her pocket and escaped from the library into the street. 

The paper burned in her pocket and the air tasted like metal on her tongue. 

_Rodney McKay._

Back at her car, Rory unfolded the paper and stared at the photograph. His eyes were as light as hers, the cleft in her chin echoed on the paper. How could she look so much like someone she'd never met?

* * *

_Rodney McKay_.

Rory stared at the words in Google search box. This was it. If she hit enter now, she couldn't go back. There was no way of un-knowing what she was about to find out. 

She could just walk away, pretend that she didn't have a father, never tell Lorelai that she'd raised the wrong man's child. 

She could hide from the truth for the rest of her life.

She hit enter.

At first, she didn't understand the results. Below a webpage for a real estate agent in Canada were hundreds of hits from scientific journals, physics and math and all the subjects that Rory had ignored in her quest to be a journalist. 

Could that be him?

Google couldn't give her any real answers. Rory went to Yale's library website and logged in with her alumni account. 

The number of scientific journal articles written by Rodney McKay between 1986 and 1998 were staggering, then it was as if he'd fallen off the grid. Rory's first heart-stopping thought was that the man was dead, but then she found a reference to him as consulting on an article in 2002.

An article written in part to do with discoveries by U.S. Air Force scientists.

Rory pulled up the article, symbols dancing incoherently on the screen. The meaning was just out of reach. 

Somehow, Rory knew that if she could understand these words, then she'd be able to understand the man who might be her father. 

Once she understood him, then maybe she'd be able to find him and say to him, _I came from you._

_One day._

* * *

It hadn't been easy. Rory had always coasted through math and physics in school, not putting too much effort into the A's she'd pulled in from classes she needed to take to graduate. She was always going to be a journalist, and journalists didn't need math or physics or any science other than a spare spattering of biology. 

When she read Rodney McKay's first published paper, when he was a sophomore at Cal-Tech, she realized how wrong she had been.

She went back to the beginning, to the calculus and physics of her youth, and it was like going home. She'd always pretended that she didn't need math, but the language of math and physics was pure unadulterated perfection, shimmering numbers lining up in order.

She'd always craved the perfection of order, and it existed in the lines of numbers and in the sweep of gravity and magnetic pull and light moving across the universe. She wanted to make that herself, to put the words of chaos together into perfection for others to see. 

She had wanted to make order from chaos, and turned her back on the numbers that made it all seem too easy.

She'd scored 800 on her Math SAT and never told her mother. The 740 Verbal was the important one, the one the universities wanted to see to let her be a writer. 

Now, staring at Rodney McKay's sophomoric equations dance across the page, Rory wondered if he'd felt the same thing, and instead of chasing a description of chaos, had sought the perfection of the universe's order.

She camped out in the Yale libraries for weeks on end, teaching herself physics and higher mathematics as necessary to understand Rodney McKay's increasingly complicated research. She ignored her mother's calls, skipped Friday night dinners, barely remembered to eat most days.

All that mattered was understanding Rodney McKay.

Then, one day, weeks after this all began, the pain in her head and the numbers on the paper coalesced into a brilliant point of light, and she _understood_.

She could see what Rodney McKay meant, where all of his research was going over the years. 

She could see a universe condensed to a single point, the power of a trillion suns twisted small enough to hold in the palm of her hand. 

It was impossible.

It was inevitable.

It _was_ order.

She couldn't breathe around the perfection she saw in the numbers.

* * *

She showed up for Friday night dinner halfway through the meat course. Emily was furious and Lorelai was hurt, and Richard didn't see a thing. 

Somewhere in the weeks of research and seeking perfection from the numbers, Rory had forgotten how the Gilmores were, well, Gilmores. The lingering memory of perfection stripped Rory of lies and words, and she had no response for the demands placed upon her. 

Peas lined up on her plate, little suns circling a whirling vortex, powers of the gods cupped in the fragile hands of mortals. 

"Are you on drugs?"

Rory finished chewing her mouthful and laid down her fork. "What?"

Lorelai had her arms crossed across her chest, defensive and angry. _Living a lie._ "Are you on drugs? Is that why you haven't been home in a month?"

Dimly, Rory noticed they were alone in the room. Emily's voice drifted out of the living room, a muttering undercurrent to the scent of lilies in the hall. 

"I'm not on drugs." _You raised the wrong man's daughter_.

"They why aren't you ever home? After they found a donor for Chris--"

 _He spent twenty-three years loving another man's daughter._ "It's not Chris. I've been at Yale."

"Doing _what_?"

Rory looked at the lit tapers on the table, the empty air between wick and flame reminding her of perfection. "I've been doing research for a story."

"What story?"

 _Who I am._ "A biography."

The pain in Lorelai's eyes faded slightly. "Anyone I know?" she asked. 

Rory dug her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. She ached to touch the empty air around the flame, to feel the excruciating pain of perfection in her fingertips. "We'll see."

She was saved from further interrogation by the return of her grandparents. In twenty minutes, she escaped from the house to the driveway. The night was cold and clear, and Rory could see sparkling stars in the dark black of space.

The gods could crush the stars together in their hands, roll perfection between their fingers, and her father had _understood_. Now, so did Rory.

She had to find him and ask him how he could stand breathing, knowing that such perfection could exist.

* * *


	3. The Girl With Numbers In Her Eyes

* * *

"Jack, please."

"How many times do I have to say no?" Jack adjusted the folder on his desk and straightened a pen before he picked up the darts to resume his game. "I'm not your guy."

"She's been digging in areas that she shouldn't."

"Digging into 'science'." Jack landed a bull's-eye directly on Baal's left nostril. "Send Carter."

"Carter's heading up the Atlantis expedition. You know that. Hell, you suggested it!"

"Right." Jack aimed his next dart a little lower. "Don't you have a bevy of highly trained scientist types who could look into this kid?"

"None of them understand the bigger picture."

The dart buried itself in the heart of the much-copied photograph of Baal. "Why not just recall Carter for a little while?"

"Jack."

"Hank."

Jack waited. "There's more," Landry finally confessed.

"See? There's always something. Out with it. Do you think she's a spy? Maybe influenced by the Trust?"

"It's not that." Landry sighed. "What's the possibility I can convince you to do this without the whole story?"

Jack readied his last dart. "Slim to none." He let fly, and nailed Baal in the crotch. If Hank was spending ten minutes on a Friday, the Stargate's most hectic day, trying to coerce Jack into an Earth-side recon mission, then things had to be more serious than he was letting on. "Go."

"Okay. Just have an open mind."

Jack really hated it when people said that to him.

* * *

There was something decidedly weird about Stars Hollow, Jack decided as he parked his rental car. Like someone had spiked the water supply. Everyone looked... eccentric.

Jack threw the car into park and killed the engine. He had a very specific mission and then he could get his ass to Denver in time to meet Teal'c for the basketball game the next day.

Of course, all of that depended on if Rory Gilmore was what she appeared to be.

_"First off, do you remember Rodney McKay?"_

_"Is this some kind of a trick question?"_

_"The girl... hell, I can't call her that, she's twenty-four. Anyway, about two months ago, one of the algorithms built into scientific journal search engines kicked out some suspicious activity. We traced it back to Yale University. A recent alumnus was doing research into a wide swatch of quantum and wormhole physics, including every single declassified paper ever written by Rodney McKay."_

_Jack yawned. "Uh huh."_

_"What was most worrying is that after pulling all of Dr. McKay's papers, she started looking into areas that she shouldn't have; making jumps from what wasn't in the papers to whole new areas. It was almost as if she had access to the Stargate Program."_

_"I assume you did a full background check."_

_"Yes, we did. And that's where it gets really weird."_

_"As in funny-weird, or 'oh god we're all doing to die'-weird?"_

_"Both. We only found this out when we put her name into the computers on-base, but two weeks before John Sheppard and his team broke orders to retake Atlantis from the Replicators, Sheppard himself ran exactly the same background check on this girl."_

_Jack stopped fiddling with his pen. "Before she even started looking into McKay's research?"_

_"Months before."_

_Jack stared down at his notepad. "Why the hell was Sheppard looking at Rory Gilmore?"_

_"Oh, it gets better. He wasn't looking at what she was up to at the time, but at her past. Where she was born, all that."_

_"And?" Seriously, if Hank didn't cut to the chase..._

_"Rory Gilmore was born to a sixteen-year-old Connecticut debutante named Lorelai Gilmore, in October of 1984. The mother went to high school in Hartford, Connecticut. One of the things Sheppard was researching was the whereabouts of Rodney McKay at the beginning of 1984."_

_Jack dropped his pen. "Oh, do **not** tell me..."_

_"Sixteen-year-old Rodney McKay spent a semester in Hartford on an exchange, nine months before Rory Gilmore was born."_

_"No."_

_"Jack--"_

_"Hell no! Are you telling me that someone allowed Rodney McKay to breed?"_

_"No, I'm telling you that Colonel Sheppard thought so, and you know exactly how linked at the hip McKay and Sheppard are!"_

_That, at least got a nod from Jack. But hey, he wasn't going to ask. "Why didn't McKay tell us?"_

_"Because the girl's birth father is listed as a Christopher Hayden. It's possible that McKay doesn't know he may be the girl's father. Nothing we can find would indicate he even knows of her existence. Ms. Gilmore's sudden interest in science only started after Hayden survived a recent bout with leukemia."_

_Something was odd in Hank's phrasing. "What about her time at Yale?"_

_Hank let out a sound suspiciously close to a chuckle. "She got her degree in Journalism. Never stepped foot into a science or math class. This after scoring a perfect 800 on her Math SAT."_

_Jack couldn't help it. "You're making this up," he protested._

_"I'm not." All amusement left Hank's voice. "She's making jumps in scientific logic that are leaving Dr. Lee and his team here scratching their heads, but in the end, she's always finding just the right piece of the puzzle. Either she knows about the Stargate Program, or she's just that good. Either way, we need someone to find out."_

_With a groan, Jack said, "Didn't I suggest an egg-head? Hell, send Jackson!"_

_"You may not know science, but you know people, Jack. I need someone to find out if this woman poses a threat to homeworld security. If she's been compromised--"_

_"All right, all right. And if she's not compromised? If she's just that good?"_

_"We need smart people and we need them badly! If this girl's as smart as she seems to be... Hell, Jack. We need this kid. I'll send over the information packet on her."_

_Jack rubbed at his eyes. "You owe me."_

_"If you prove that this woman is the secret illegitimate daughter of Dr. Rodney McKay, I owe you more than one."_

_"Oh, yippee."_

Shaking his head, Jack shoved the papers into his bag and got out of the car. He was dressed in civvies and only carried one concealed handgun. The simple precautions had seemed like enough... but there was still that strange air about the place.

As far as the military knew, Rory Gilmore was between jobs, living at her mother's house and taking odd jobs about town. She spent hours every day on the internet doing research on astrophysics and other areas of science that Jack had no desire to think about, all the while getting closer and closer to the secrets of the Stargate Program.

Jack knew what she looked like from a few photographs dug up by the bloodhounds, knew 'Rory' was a nickname taken from her mother's own name, 'Lorelai', but that was about it. He had no clue where to look for her. Maybe a look around the tiny town would help.

Still, he wished he'd brought Daniel along for the trip.

Crossing the street to the town square, Jack eyed the banner being lifted into the air, and wondered if he could get the hell out of town before the 'Firelight Festival' kicked into gear. Most festivals he'd been to over the last decade ended up with him being married or getting old real fast, or his team set up as a human sacrifice to the gods. Call him old fashioned, but that tended to put the grinch in his festival enjoyment.

"Lorelai!" someone called across the square.

Jack made himself glance over casually. It looked as if his trip wasn't in vain after all.

"Lorelai!" the call came again. Halfway across the street, a tall woman came to a halt, hung her head, and turned back.

"What do you want, Taylor?" the woman called. She had answered to Lorelai, but she was too old to be Rory. Sixteen years too old, if Jack's eyes didn't deceive him.

The supposed Taylor, an older man in a cardigan, huffed over to Lorelai. "We haven't received the donation from the Dragonfly Inn for the silent auction fundraiser."

The woman snapped her fingers. "You're right. Sorry," she added, sounding anything but. "I'll have Michel do it when I get to work."

"Lorelai..." The man launched into a stern lecture, which caused Lorelai to roll her eyes, and Jack to narrow his.

The woman looked nothing like Jack had expected. On the one hand, she was nothing like Sam Carter. On the other, she wasn't anything like Jack had expected in someone who'd had a kid at sixteen. She looked every inch the respectable business woman.

And damn, but she was a looker. Great legs and an amazing body under that suit, and a beautiful face. Grudgingly, Jack's estimation of Rodney McKay went up a few notches.

But she wasn't his target.

Turning slowly, Jack ambled across the park, passing close to Lorelai and the arguing Taylor. He was close enough to hear Taylor end his tirade by saying, ".. and your daughter's lack of help--"

Lorelai's whole demeanor changed in an instant. "Lay off Rory, Taylor," Lorelai snapped. "She's going through a rough time."

"We know and we all want to help," Taylor oozed sincerity, "But all she does is sit on that bench all day with her computer."

"Leave it alone, Taylor," Lorelai warned.

"Have you considered getting her professional help?"

Lorelai's spine straightened. "Rory isn't crazy--"

"You don't know--"

"I know my own kid!" Lorelai's voice lifted over the general hubbub of the festival. "Just chill, Taylor, and leave her alone!"

Defeated, Taylor walked away. "I expect to see that donation by the end of the day!" he delivered as a parting shot.

Lorelai let out a strangled scream and marched across the square towards a diner that appeared to double as a hardware store. Jack watched her go, more curious than ever about what was going on in this town.

At least he knew Rory Gilmore was around here somewhere.

He gave the town square another look, then expanded his examination of the surrounding area. He almost missed her; sitting secluded on a park bench near a footpath. Children ran past her, workers moved boxes, and she paid them no mind. All of her attention was on her laptop.

As he neared, Jack's feet slowed. The girl looked so much like Rodney McKay it was frightening. Her face was thin to the point of gauntness, long hair tucked behind her ears, but the rest was sheer McKay, down to the intense concentration and dark shadows under her eyes.

"Crap," Jack said under his breath. Until now, he'd held out a faint hope that this whole thing was a mistake, that the girl really was who her birth certificate said she was, the illegitimate daughter of Lorelai Gilmore and Christopher Hayden.

Well, no time like the present. Jack squared his shoulders and marched over to the bench.

"Hey," he said jovially when he arrived. Nothing. The girl didn't even look up. "Um, excuse me? Ms. Gilmore?"

Blinking a few times, Rory looked up the intruder. Jack's stomach sank a little lower. The girl's eyes were the same brilliant blue as Rodney McKay. "I'm sorry?"

"Hi," Jack said with a smile. "Are you Rory Gilmore?"

The confused, distant stare never wavered. It was the same see-right-through-you stare that Carter got when she was saving the galaxy with math. "Do I know you?"

"No, you don't. Can I sit?" Without waiting for her to say yes, Jack perched on the far end of the bench. "Whatcha working on?"

The question startled Rory out of her almost-trance, and she closed the laptop. "Just some stuff." Suspicious awareness grew in her eyes. "Is there something you wanted?"

Before Jack had left Washington, Hank had offered some suggestions on how to approach the girl. Jack considered, then tossed all those ideas out the window. "You've been doing a lot of research into the works of Dr. Rodney McKay--"

He got no further. The girl paled, a sickly color under her already-white skin. "I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered. "I'm just reading up on-- on world events."

Without knowing why, Jack held out his hand in a placating manner. "Hey, it's okay." The girl was spooked, and he didn't know why.

The girl shoved her laptop into her backpack, but didn't stand up. Not yet. "Who _are_ you?"

"My name's Jack O'Neill," he offered, watching her closely for any signs that she knew the name, or the whole innocent physics-geek thing was an act. There was no reaction. "Who are you?"

Her hand tightened on her backpack, and for the first time Jack looked beyond her similarities to Rodney McKay. She was too thin, too sharp around the edges, in clothes that had been washed a few too many times.

Something about her intensity reminded Jack of Daniel. It was the vibrating ferocity of obsession, looking for the right answer buried in a galaxy of haystacks.

Question was, what was Rory Gilmore looking for?

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it. She sagged back on the bench, not appearing to notice as the wind picked up and blew hair across her face.

Cardigan-man called the girl crazy. Was he right? There was no history of insanity in the McKay family, at least not as far as Jack knew. Had this girl crossed the line from brilliance to madness?

Jack frowned at his own train of thought. He didn't think all poetically like that. He left that sort of thing to Daniel. "So, what's this festival thing about?" he asked, waving his hand at the banners in the town square. "There a bonfire or something?"

Rory's attention drifted back to Jack. "Yeah, a bonfire." She pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I've always thought it was a ridiculous attempt to drag out the commercial romanticism of Valentine's Day into March, though with less commercialism and more things on fire."

"You don't like Valentine's Day?"

"My first boyfriend broke up with me on the night of the festival." Rory drew one knee up under her chin. "The legend is that two teenagers pulled the first half of Romeo and Juliet and ran away to be together, only surprise, they got lost in the Colonial backwoods and apparently a hail of falling stars brought them together here." She pointed at the gazebo in the town square. "So there's stars and burning things on fire and romantic stuff."

"I can see why you're so down on teenage romance."

Rory blinked at him. "Sorry, I'm not normally so negative about town events. I've just had this headache for weeks now and I can't seem to figure out something that really should be working."

"Something mathy?"

The suspicion returned to Rory's face. "You know, I'm really not supposed to be talking to strangers. Especially ones who know my name and far too much of what I'm doing."

Jack leaned back, putting on his 'hey, I'm harmless' smile. "You're probably going to ask how I knew your name--"

"Anyone in town would have told you that. We're not what you'd call _up_ on the After-School Special method of stranger interaction. What I want to know is how you know what I'm doing."

"Right." Jack thought back to his own version of WWJD - _What Would Jackson Do_ , and came up blank. If the kid was as smart as everyone said she was, then there was probably no point in any obvious lies. And if Hank wanted her back at the SGC, then now was probably the time to start with a carefully edited version of the truth. "I've worked with Dr. McKay on a few projects."

Rory's breath caught in her throat. "You have?" She sat up and dug into her backpack. She pulled out a handful of papers and began to flip through them. "Maybe you can help me, I've been stuck for three days and I can't figure out if it's a problem in the math or if I'm just not _seeing_ something--"

"Hold on, Gilmore," Jack said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I don't do this side of things."

Rory stopped her rummaging. "But you said you worked with Rodney--"

"Sort of." Jack reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his Air Force ID. "Dr. McKay was an Air Force consultant on a project I worked on for a number of years. Deep Space Radar Telemetry."

"Deep Space Radar Telemetry," Rory repeated.

"Right."

She never looked at his ID. "So you're with the Air Force."

"A general, even."

She folded the papers back into a neat bundle. "You're a general in the Air Force and you know I'm researching work done by Rodney McKay."

"Yes." Even as he said it, Jack wondered if he'd made a tactical error. The intensity of the girl's stare was beginning to freak him out.

"Rodney-- I mean, Dr. McKay, his work has nothing to do with Deep Space Radar Telemetry."

"It was a side project."

Rory put her papers into her backpack. Her fingers trembled. "I'm not sure which is less comforting, that the Air Force has been watching me or that they know about me in the first place."

"We haven't been 'watching you', watching you," Jack said with finger quotes and everything. Hank hadn't mentioned anyone watching the girl specifically, but he may have been editing the story a little. If he even knew at all. "Your academic internet searches triggered some computer thingy. An alarm went off, I'm told. All very dramatic."

The girl spread her hand flat on the bench. "The Yale Library's not getting that donation this year," she said, voice distant. She was silent and still for two full minutes, then she looked up at Jack. She had that Carter look in her eyes again. "I can see how the searching algorithm would have been triggered. Is it ironic that Dr. McKay wrote a paper about this back in his sophomore year?"

"Wait, you just figured out some algorithm?" Jack demanded, sitting up straight. "Just now talking to me?"

Rory just stared.

Jack wasn't sure if such a thing was humanly possible. Maybe the kid was nuts after all. "People in town say you're crazy."

"The propensity of mild insanity in this town is high enough that they're probably just playing the odds."

"See, now, sane people just don't talk like that."

Rory shrugged. "I'm not crazy. Not now, anyway."

"Ah, so it was a temporary bout of insanity." The girl was beginning to ease back a little, Jack noted. "If reading McKay's writing is anything like talking to him, I don't blame you. Anyone would go a little bonkers."

"And you say you worked with him?" Rory said, almost playful.

Jack eyed her. "We're all mad here," he said mockingly. "McKay was the least of my problems."

"I'm so very sorry," she said, not sounding very convincing.

"Say, shouldn't you be freaking out about the invasion of your privacy?" Jack asked, switching gear.

"How would you know what feelings I have on the matter? Maybe I'm flattered the government has taken such an interest in me."

"That's not what you wrote last year." Jack opened his bag and pulled out a much-thumbed magazine. "In the New York Times magazine, you contributed to a four page article on government invasion of privacy. You were a little vehement."

Jack expected her to be outraged, or at least annoyed. He certainly wasn't expecting the calculating expression that crossed her elfin features. "Let me see if I have this straight," she said. "I triggered a government search algorithm through my research on Rodney McKay. The Air Force sent you, a general who probably has much better things to do in this time of war and who says he's not into science, to talk to me, armed with a collection of my writing?" Not seeing what harm it would do, Jack nodded. "And this entire conversation is designed to make me trust you."

Jack squinted up at the sun. "How am I doing?"

"Badly." She stopped and waited expectantly.

"What?"

"I'm waiting for the other shoe. You know, the point to this whole thing?"

"A point..." Jack promised himself he was going to make Hank pay for this. "All right. Are you Rodney McKay's daughter?"

"What makes you think that?" Rory asked, composed, even as her pallor whitened again. "Does it matter who I am?"

"What made you start searching for McKay's research when you did?"

Rory arched her eyebrows. "Come on. You invaded my privacy like you did, you know something about me that not even my mother knows, and can't find the point when my whole life inverted?"

"So, when you found out that you weren't Christopher Hayden's biological daughter and therefore were an incompatible bone marrow donor."

Rory grew even paler, and Jack honestly wondered if she was about to pass out. But no, she wasn't faint. She was pissed. "Leave Christopher out of this," she said in flat voice. "You can be as flippant as you want about the rest of my fucked-up life, fine, but _not_ about him!"

Jack knew loyalty when he saw it, and it was that which fueled Rory's anger. In the twenty-three years that Rory thought Hayden was her father, he'd treated her like an afterthought for the most part. He'd called her regularly, but he'd seldom bothered to visit or even chip in any money for child support, even though his family was loaded.

Although, considering how rich Lorelai Gilmore's family was, and the relative poverty in which Rory spent her early years as her high-school drop-out mother worked her way up from nothing, that might have more to do with the mother than the father.

"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly. "He's going to be okay, though, right? The transplant took?"

"He's fine," Rory said. She slipped her backpack to the ground. "What the hell do you want from me? That I'm sorry I made the alarms go off in the Pentagon? I'm sorry I'm not who everyone thinks I am?"

Jack should have brought his sunglasses from the car. The glare was getting to him. "Answer me one question, and I'll tell you what I want."

Rory rubbed at her temples. "You already know everything about me, what the hell could you possibly want to know?"

Interesting how she swore when she was angry. Jack pushed that thought away. "Your research search path thingy. What you were looking for. How did you get from point A to point B?"

"What?"

"You weren't just looking for things that were written by McKay. The other stuff, why were you looking for it?"

Rory pushed her palm flat against her forehead. Eyes closed, she said, "Because it was the logical path."

"No one else I've talked to would say that."

"What?" Rory opened her eyes. "It is."

"So where's the missing link?" What was the comparison Dr. Lee had used? "It's like saying that humans are related to modern-day cats without knowing about evolution and prehistoric mammal development."

Rory lowered her hand. "It makes logical sense to me."

"Again with the 'why'?"

"Because!" Rory shook her head, hair catching on a button of her worn jacket. "It's all there in the numbers. If you look at it from the beginning, General--"

"Call me Jack."

She didn't seem to hear him. "The numbers don't lie, they _can't_ lie. If you take a very few fundamental laws of physics, which match the numbers, then everything else has to fall in line or be wrong. I just looked at what was wrong and tried to make it fit."

"Human to cat," Jack said.

Rory held out her hand. "Human perception is on such a small scale that it's almost impossible to move outside that box. If you can get out from there, away from the scale that fire and wind are essentially it for energy, you can get anywhere."

"To... nuclear power?" Jack guessed. He really didn't like how this conversation was moving.

"Beyond that! You could take the power of a trillion stars, whole galaxies, condensed to a single point." Rory closed her hand into a fist. "Small enough to hold in your hand."

Jack tried to figure out if it would be an overreaction to have hysterics that this child, who had spent less than two months learning mathematics, had just perfectly described a Zero-Point-Module.

He still wondered if she was a Trust plant, but the insanity theory was starting to slide off the table. "How did you come up with that one?"

Rory glanced up from her hand, as if she'd forgotten he was there. "In McKay's research."

Jack swallowed. "Nothing in his public papers has anything like that." He was pretty damned sure that nothing even remotely related to ZPMs was in anything declassified by the Air Force.

"But it's under the numbers!" Rory exclaimed. "If you look underneath what he's saying, and examine the direction his research was going! He'd have gotten there eventually!"

 _And you made it there, without any help_ , Jack thought. Out loud, he said, "So you made it from zero to McKay in a few weeks?"

Rory nodded, eyes bright. Jack really hoped that was excitement and not lunacy. "I was working and the numbers made sense, but it was as if I was missing something. I had the same stupid headache as I do now, and it was late and I'd had way too much coffee and then all of a sudden it was like I'd been pushed over the edge and everything made _sense_!"

 _All of a sudden it was like I'd been pushed over the edge_.

_She's making jumps in scientific logic that are leaving Dr. Lee and his team here scratching their heads, but in the end, she's always finding just the right piece of the puzzle._

Jack decided right then and there that he didn't care if the kid was insane. He wanted her at the SGC _now_. If she was insane, they could have her committed. If she was a Trust plant, they'd lock her up.

But if there was any chance that she was right, if there was any chance that she had been pushed in her understanding of math...

No one got that smart, that fast. Not without a little help.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a research paper, something just off the presses from Dr. Lee and the scientists at the SGC. Hank had made Jack promise not to show it to the girl until after she'd signed a non-disclosure agreement, but Jack would just fudge the numbers. It didn't mention the Stargate, anyway, just some stuff about the fundamentals behind the ZPM they were using to power the Odyssey.

"Here," he said, handing the paper over. "What do you think of this?"

Rory took the paper, reluctantly at first, but then she saw the first set of numbers and her whole face lit up. "Where did you get this?" she asked, rifling through the pages.

"Deep Space Radar Telemetry..." Jack mumbled, but it was obvious the girl wasn't listening to him.

She pulled her feet up underneath her on the bench, oblivious to the world. She bit her lower lip and mumbled to herself as she went back and forth in the paper.

This was going to take a while. Jack settled himself on the bench and looked around. Festival preparation went on around them, cars drove, kids played. All very small-town America. Jack wondered if they had good fishing.

"This is wrong," Rory said suddenly, drawing his attention back.

"What is?"

"This," Rory stressed, pushing the paper at him. "The numbers work but they're based on a logical fallacy! It's the same sort of problem I was working on earlier today, where the numbers work but they shouldn't and I can't figure out how!"

Jack took the paper. "Someone wrote something down wrong?"

"No, there's a total misunderstanding on the assumptions laid out in the third paragraph--" Rory stopped as Jack held up his hand. "The whole thing's wrong."

"Just give me a sec," Jack said. "I need to make a call."

So it seemed that Rory was crazy, after all. Dr. Lee wasn't going to give him a research paper with incorrect science. He'd just call Lee and see what the man said about Rory's comment.

"Fine, but I'm right," she said stubbornly, looking very much like the Rodney McKay Jack remembered.

Jack got to his feet and walked a few steps away before dialling the SGC on his secure cell line.

"Dr. Lee."

"Hey, it's General O'Neill."

"General, what can I do for you?"

"That research paper Hank snagged for me--"

"Oh, for the mysterious McKay girl?" Lee's voice was apprehensive. "Look, about that paper--"

"I'm the general. Me first."

Lee stopped talking.

"The kid took about two minutes to find something wrong with the paper. Something about a wrong assumption in the third paragraph."

Dead silence.

"Um, Dr. Lee? That's it. I'm done."

"It took her two minutes to find that?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jack crumpled the paper in his fist. "Here I was, thinking the girl was a nut-job and all the time you were trying to punk me--"

"General, you don't understand!" Lee interrupted. "We only just discovered the problem a few hours ago! Thankfully before the Odyssey made its first jump to hyperspace using the new power schematics based on that very paper. If we hadn't found it in time..."

Jack breathed his way through the spike of adrenaline. There were over two hundred people on the Odyssey. "But you found it in time."

"Just in time. General, there have been twenty highly trained scientists working on this problem for months and we almost didn't find it. If this girl located the problem in two minutes..."

Jack glanced back over his shoulder. Rory Gilmore sat, staring at him, hands folded in her lap. _Holding galaxies in her hands._ "Goodbye, Dr. Lee." Jack hung up amid a myriad of protests, and dialed the General's office.

"Landry."

"You should really recall Carter for this one."

"Jack? Is Ms. Gilmore what she appears to be?"

"Not sure about that, but I suspect that Dr. Lee will be up in your office in a few minutes turning cartwheels," Jack said. "I'm going to suggest that she come to the Mountain."

"I see. How certain are you that she's not a Trust plant?"

"I think all the usual procedures should be in place."

"Meaning you want her in a contained environment when we dig deeper."

"Smart man."

"Are you bringing her in?"

Jack let out a breath. "I think the approach we took with Jackson would be better."

"That's-- Let me guess. You think she might be able to hear you."

"The Firelight Festival isn't making that much noise."

"Christ, Jack, you don't make it easy, do you? You want to draw her in based on her own curiosity rather than bring her involuntarily?"

"Yup."

"And if she doesn't come in on her own volition?"

"She will."

"You seem mighty certain of that."

"Call it a hunch." Jack hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He wandered back over to the bench. Rory was looking at him... or at least was looking in his direction. Her eyes were staring at a point three feet behind him. "Hey, kid, good news."

"Your scientist friends figured out what was wrong with their math?" Rory asked, gradually focusing again. "Was it the wrong variable?"

"Uh..."

"I mean, I think that's what it is." She blinked rapidly. "It's not a pretty solution, but it gets the job done."

"You just figured that out?" Jack sat down. "That's a little weird."

"No weirder than a General making cryptic phone calls." Hesitantly, Rory held out her hand. "If you'd like, I can write down the solution so your friends can see if it works."

"Sure." Jack handed back the paper and watched as Rory very carefully smoothed out the wrinkles and wrote in a precise hand.

When she was done, she stared at the paper.

"What's up?" Jack asked quietly.

Rory's fingers hesitated over the writing. "It's just... I've never written any of it down. It's all in my head." She handed him the paper. "I hope it helps."

And that, Jack decided, was very unlike Rodney McKay.

"Was that your question?" Rory asked. "You wanted me to see the paper?"

"Not really." Jack folded the paper into his inner pocket. If he lost it between here and the SGC, Dr. Lee might have a stroke. "There's some... science stuff, that you might like to see. This sort of stuff."

Rory's eyes grew impossibly wide.

"But you need to sign a non-disclosure agreement and come out to Colorado."

"I--"

Jack handed her his business card. "Cheyenne Mountain. But call me before you get there so I can meet you at the gate."

Rory took the card. "What sort of non-disclosure agreement is it?"

"That you never talk about what you learn."

"Or what? I get sued?"

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"What kind of complicated?"

"Let's just say that we're really not kidding around about it."

For a moment, Jack thought Rory would hand him back his card and run away. Then the moment passed. "Is... Is Dr. McKay at Cheyenne Mountain?"

"I can't discuss that."

"But--"

"Look, I know you want to know about McKay, and if I was more of an asshole, I'd use him to reel you in." Jack picked up his bag and stood. "But I really cannot discuss Rodney McKay with you until you've signed the non-disclosure agreement and you've been properly vetted for security clearance. I'm sorry."

Rory also stood. She looked so vulnerable that Jack wanted to shove a sandwich into her hands and send her to bed. If they needed her to save the world, she needed to take better care of herself.

Jack shook his head. He couldn't go getting all protective of the kid. There was still the possibility that she was one of the bad guys. But if so, better she be in the SGC than running around being brilliant for the enemy.

"And if I do sign the agreement..."

"Yeah?"

"Would I still be able to talk to my mom?"

"Yeah. Just not about stuff at work. There's a whole orientation thing for civilians. We don't lock you up."

"Only monitor communications."

Jack pointed his finger at her. "You're too smart for your own good."

"I thought that's why you wanted me."

"Good point." He paused. "So. Am I going to see you in Colorado?"

"You're not going to make me come with you now?"

"Nope."

"Good." She smiled faintly. "Because I wouldn't."

"I knew that." Jack smiled back. He held out his hand. "It was good to meet you, Ms. Gilmore."

Her hand was beyond delicate, but her shake was firm. "I hope you don't mind if I reserve comment on my take of the meeting, General O'Neill."

"Jack," he reminded her. "I have to run. Where are you going?"

Rory glanced across the town square at the hardware diner. "I'm covering a friend's shift at the diner. To make some spare cash."

Jack wanted to let it go, but he was curious. "Why did you ditch your job reporting?" he asked.

"This thing with Dr. McKay--"

"No, that was before you even learned that Christopher Hayden had leukemia."

Rory shouldered her backpack. "I had my reasons."

"Don't we all," Jack pontificated. "Anyway, I'll see you in Colorado."

"You don't know that."

Jack smiled to himself as he walked away. "Yes, I do."

* * *

Regardless, the first thing Jack did once he reached the car was to call for around the clock surveillance on Rory Gilmore.

Better to be safe than sorry. After all, the SGC needed the kid in one piece.

And Landry was going to kick his ass for not getting her to sign the non-disclosure form.

* * *


	4. The Precise Point Of Impact

_I'll see you in Colorado._

_You don't know that._

_Yes, I do._

Rory drew the broom over the floor, carefully gathering sparkling shards of glass into a heap, glittering promises in a pile of trod-in dirt and crumbs. Behind her, Kirk and Miss Patty argued about who knocked over the glass, while Luke muttered menacingly and the March sunlight glittered off the broken glass and splintered into a kaleidoscope in her head.

_I'll see you in Colorado._

Broken glass, shattering along planes set down at high heats, a smokeless fire hot enough to turn solid to sluggish liquid, hot enough to glow, hot enough to kill.

_You don't know that._

_Yes, I do._

Rory swept the last shard of glass into the dustpan. The sounds in Luke's Diner faded to the usual white noise, better than silence for solitude.

She had been in Star's Hollow for months, living under her mother's roof again, and she had never felt so alone.

_I'll see you in Colorado._

She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.

"Both of you, enough!" Luke's shout startled Rory, pulling her from her white cocoon of noise. "The glass cost all of fifty cents! You each give me a quarter and I never have to hear about this again!"

Kirk protested, as he was Kirk and that was his nature, but Rory eased her shoulders back and walked careful steps to the garbage bin by the storeroom. The glass slid from the dustpan to the bottom of the bin, sparkle muted in the artificial light.

One piece of glass was like another, yet they all broke along different planes. A jigsaw puzzle shaped by a precise point of impact, glass to floor.

Rory set the dustpan and broom in the corner. Gravity held them there, held her there, glued desperately to a planet spinning so hard to fling them loose in the universe; fling them across the void, no air, no light, nothing.

It all came down to numbers in the end.

Rory washed her hands, twenty seconds under the hot water as demanded by proper restaurant sanitation guidelines, then went back into the seating area of the diner.

Kirk was gone and so was Miss Patty, the diner bright and airy and empty. For the briefest of moments, Rory was the only person left alive, then Luke stormed out of the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder to Cesar, and Rory was herself again.

_I'll see you in Colorado._

"Rory, can you clear the tables?" Luke asked as he passed her. " _Someone_ ordered too few onions and I need to get over to Doose's Market before the next wave."

"I'll clear," Rory confirmed. She couldn't look at Luke, knew what she would see; the same pity she saw in everyone else's eyes.

_'Poor thing.'_

'She had such a bright future.'

Some days, she hated them. Other days, she couldn't help but see the logic in their slightly-smug and self-centered words.

But on most days, Rory simply didn't care what the people of Stars Hollow thought of her. They may have watched her grow up, but they didn't know anything about her.

No one did.

Except... Jack O'Neill hadn't looked at her like she was a freak. He'd wondered if she was insane, Rory had seen that in his eyes, but he'd talked to her about the numbers. He might not have known it, but he had given her the greatest gift imaginable. He'd held proof in his hands that Rory hadn't lost her mind, had let her take the numbers, let her find the truths therein, and held out the promise of more.

And the promise, the lure, of learning more about Rodney McKay.

_I'll see you in Colorado._

She needed to find the man who might be her father. More than that, she needed those numbers. Even since that first day in the Yale library, when everything came together and made sense in a flash of light and the sharp pain in her head, she'd been looking for more. She needed to know more, to know everything.

Over the weeks, the headaches faded to almost nothing, but the understanding continued.

In the meantime, she swept floors and served burgers at Luke's, shelved books at the bookstore, helped Taylor with the account books at the ice cream parlor, anything to pass the hours until she could build up her courage to go back to the numbers.

Every time she closed her eyes, she was terrified she'd lose it all.

Every morning, she wished she could go back to the way things were, when she'd hid from the truth in numbers and relied on words to obfuscate and complicate things until there was no truth left in the world and it didn't matter because everybody lied.

But glass houses built on lies always fall down, shattering along planes shaped by a precise point of impact.

Kirk had left his customary seventy-seven-cent tip, and honey droplets spread along the table. Miss Patty had folded a five-dollar bill under her plate. Rory knew it was pity money, but still she pushed the five dollars and seventy-seven cents into her pocket (five hundred and seventy-seven was prime) and gathered up the utensils.

Pity might be abhorrent, but it was better than charity. In this, Rory was like her mother.

But Rory did not think of Lorelai while she was working. A mother's guilt and the worry suffocated, was based on nothing numerical, only on emotion, and some days Rory could not comprehend her mother's emotions. Lorelai lived in a world built on lies, a glass pedestal of happiness, where Christopher Hayden was Rory's father and Rory hadn't spent months lying to Lorelai about her paternity.

Rory could not throw those stones to knock down Lorelai's life.

_A jigsaw puzzle shaped by a precise point of impact, glass to floor._

_I'll see you in Colorado._

Rory placed the dish bin beside the dishwasher and wiped her hands on her apron, an unsanitary habit she had picked up along the way from Sookie. "Cesar, I need to make a phone call."

The cook never looked up from slicing tomatoes. "Go ahead, I'll deal with any customers that come in!"

He was always cheerful, even when the tips sucked, and Rory wondered if he knew something about life that she did not. "I won't be long."

The phone reached into the storeroom. After she closed the door, Rory reached into her pocket and pulled out the card Jack O'Neill had left with her that morning.

Before she could think about it more, she dialed the number.

"General O'Neill's office."

"Oh. Um, hi, I'm trying to reach the General?" She sounded like a child and she hated the feeling.

"General O'Neill is out of the office at this time."

Rory pushed the card back into her pocket beside her tips. He had sought her out, Rory reminded herself. "May I leave a message for the General?"

"You may. Your name?"

"Rory Gilmore. Rory is spelled--"

"Yes, Ms. Gilmore, you are in the General's schedule," said the woman on the other end of the line, her voice thawing slightly. "With what can I help you?"

Rory stood up straight. This call was her idea, after all. "This morning, I was discussing some numbers with the General, but after he left I thought of a better way to express the issue... I know, he said he's not good with numbers, but I thought if I could tell him then he could pass on the solution to whomever he has dealing with the mathematics."

"Of course. Please go ahead."

Rory closed her eyes, the numbers and equations and movement dancing in her head like dying stars. She spoke clearly and concisely, outlining the solution as precisely as glass shatters into shards. Less than fifty words later, she was done.

"Please let me read this back to you," the woman said. She repeated the solution, each breath giving the numbers life. "Is that correct?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Is there anything else?"

_I'll see you in Colorado._

"No, thank you."

Only after the woman hung up did it occur to Rory that she hadn't left a contact number. No matter, she supposed. If Jack O'Neill knew so much about her, more than ever her mother knew, then she supposed that he could find her phone number.

* * *

Lorelai was waiting when Rory got home.

"Hey kid," Lorelai said cheerfully as Rory hung her worn jacket on a hook. "How was the old grind?"

Lorelai had been the one to scream at her for hours when Rory quit her job at the paper and moved back to Stars Hollow. "Fine." Rory tried to remember details about work, something to distract Lorelai. "Kirk dropped a glass. And Lindsay and her mom came into the diner."

Why she had mentioned Lindsay, Dean Forrester's ex-wife, she didn't know. Lorelai's face fell. "How was that?"

Lindsay's mother, with a name Rory no longer bothered to remember, had looked at Rory smugly, ordered a complicated dish, then proceeded to talk loudly about how well Lindsay was doing for herself as a paralegal. The eavesdropping Cesar had burned the woman's burger on purpose and Lindsay had picked at her food, face red and never looking at Rory, and they hadn't left a tip. Afterwards, Luke had patted Rory's shoulder and told her not to listen to "those folks".

Rory honestly couldn't remember why it was important anymore. She'd slept with Lindsay's husband and nothing she could say would make that any less hurtful. The truth between them didn't need any words.

"Fine. Lindsay's doing really well as a paralegal," Rory said to Lorelai, a peace offering.

"Good," Lorelai said. She clapped her hands. "Do you want to catch a movie?"

This made Rory look around, confused. "It's Friday night."

"I know."

"So we have to go to Hartford."

Lorelai waved her hand. "We can blow it off."

Rory ducked her head. Her hands itched for her computer, wanted to re-read just one more physics paper by Rodney McKay. "We have obligations," she reminded her mother, and drifted down the hall to her room.

Once inside, Rory carefully counted out her tips and placed them in a jar on her desk. Once a week she deposited her money in the bank, minus the rent money she left in her mother's drawer and which Lorelai steadfast refused to touch. She'd saved up almost five hundred dollars.

Enough for a plane ticket to Colorado Springs.

_I'll see you in Colorado._

_You don't know that._

_Yes, I do._

"I get it," Rory said to the room. The room didn't answer, a childish shrine to the twenty-one-year-old girl who went into the world to make a name for herself. Shaking her head, Rory went to shower. She had to hurry so they weren't late for dinner.

She didn't look in the mirror.

* * *

The drive to Hartford was, as usual, painful.

Rory looked out the window and watched the light play through the early spring darkness and thought about breaking glass.

"So, um, how was your morning?"

Morning. Jack O'Neill. He knew her father and knew about her and knew _her_ and he wanted her.

At Cheyenne Mountain.

Where the Air Force did probably not conduct tests on deep space radar telemetry.

"Fine."

"Good. Good." The customary pause of three seconds, then, "Mrs. Kim said she saw you talking to someone in the park?"

Good girls didn't talk to strange men in parks. "Yes."

"Who was he?"

Lies tripped off her tongue so easily these days. _I'm fine. Christopher Hayden is my father. You know who I am._ "He was new in town, asking about the Firelight Festival."

"Oh." Another pause. "He wasn't trying to--"

"To what?" Rory said sharply, turning her head. She felt brittle like broken glass, too sharp and too dangerous and cold to the touch. "What do you think he was trying to do?"

Lorelai bit her lip and was silent, and Rory wanted to scream. In the past, Lorelai would have yelled at her, engaged her in an argument, but now she held back.

 _He's waiting to see me in Colorado._ Rory folded her hands on her lap the way her grandmother had taught her, and looked away. _He's going to give me everything I need._

"I'm worried about you," Lorelai finally said.

"We have had this conversation before."

"And there was no resolution then, either."

"Damn it, Rory, you quit your job and come back home, frittering your days away working crap jobs and spending time on that damned computer--"

Rory briefly considered offering to move out, but that wouldn't solve anything and would only work Lorelai up to a greater outrage.

"--And this isn't you!"

"You don't know that." The interjection was a ripple in the pond.

"I do! I know you and I know you're better than this!"

"Who are you?"

Lorelai was momentarily shocked into silence. "What the hell does that mean?" she finally sputtered out, changing lanes a little too fast. "I'm your mother--"

"Underneath all of that. You're my mother and Sookie's friend and Grandma's daughter, but if you weren't any of those things?" Rory clenched her fists, feeling bones shift painfully. "Who are you?"

"No, you can't do this," Lorelai said too quickly. "I'm always going to be your mother, that's a large part of who I am, and regardless of the years I spent trying to escape my mother's house, I'm still stuck in that life too."

Rory had her answer about her mother, but unfortunately she had none for herself. Her life was built on lies and all she had left of truth was the numbers.

And Rodney McKay.

And even he may be a lie.

"I love you, Mom," Rory said softly. "And I do appreciate what you've done for me."

Lorelai took the Hartford exit. "You're..." Her voice stuttered off. "You're okay, right? You're not in any kind of trouble? You're not sick or--"

Rory unfolded her hands and laid her left hand over her mother's on the clutch. "I'm not sick and I'm not dying and I'm not in any trouble." Lorelai's hand was cold. "Nor, contrary to popular town opinion, am I crazy."

Lorelai briefly squeezed Rory's hand before gearing down at a light. "Taylor's going to be upset, he'll lose the pool."

"He'd never let a crazy person near his money," Rory said distantly. "He does like to exaggerate."

"That's Taylor."

Rory wanted to smile, but the remembered feel of crumpled paper under her fingers stole her breath away.

* * *

Emily and Richard Gilmore were seated when the maid ushered Rory and Lorelai into the living room. "Rory, Lorelai," Emily said with forced cheer. She leaned forward in her seat. "Richard, the girls are here."

"Yes, Emily, I can see that," Richard said dryly. He folded his newspaper and got to his feet. "Well, what can I get everyone for drinks?"

"A martini would be great, Dad," Lorelai said. "How about you, Rory?"

Rory sat carefully on the couch across from Emily, smoothing her dress with broken-glass hands. "Anything is fine."

"Come now," Richard chided. "Rory, we have a fully stocked bar, and if you leave me to my own devices, I may get creative."

Rory remembered Richard's first heart attack, and his second, and wondered when he would die, and if he'd mind that her whole life had been a lie. She swallowed against the sudden grief in her throat. "Do you have any red wine?" she asked.

"I do have a very nice vintage, opened and breathing for dinner," Richard said. He handed Lorelai her martini. "I'll be right back."

Once Richard left, the living room went silent. Emily looked between Lorelai and Rory. After a minute, Emily said, "How are things at the Inn, Lorelai?"

"Fine, thanks, Mom," Lorelai said.

"And Rory? How are you?"

Rory kept her attention focused on Emily, not letting her gaze drift to the lights shining through the glass. "Fine, thank you for asking."

Emily glanced at Rory's dress. "I do wish you would let me take you shopping," she said. "Your wardrobe has taken a downwards turn since you got back--"

"Mom, don't," Lorelai interjected quickly. "You've asked before and Rory said no."

"Lorelai, be serious! The child is wearing clothes I wouldn't put on a dog and I can't understand why you won't let me buy her a few things!" Emily exclaimed.

"Oh, my god!" Lorelai set down her martini. "It's Rory's choice!"

"She's becoming more like you every day!" Emily's voice wove through the lights, as Rory's eyes drifted up to the overhead lamps. "Refusing to take gifts, refusing to look to her future properly, throwing away her education and her chances in life to work in the service industry in a two-bit town!"

Rory rose to her feet and left the room. Emily and Lorelai didn't need her as audience for this particular argument.

Richard was in the dining room, carefully pouring a glass of red wine from a decanter. "Just in time," he said, as Lorelai lit into her mother. He winced. "Here."

"Thank you," Rory said. The wine was a lovely red colour against the brilliance of the glass.

"You're welcome." He hesitated, then laid his hand on her shoulder. "I like your dress very much."

He sounded awkward and nervous, but Rory could hear only truth in his words. "Thank you, Grandpa," she said. She took a sip of wine. The flavor slid over her tongue and offered promises of oblivion and Rory couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten drunk. "There are worse things to be."

"I beg your pardon?" Richard asked.

Rory tilted her head back to look up at him. Sometimes she forgot how very tall he was. "What Grandma said. If I'm to be like anyone, it's..." Rory let her voice slide to a stop before she denigrated her own mother's achievements. "If I'm to be like anyone, then I would like to be a person like Mom."

Richard's face softened, and he squeezed her shoulder. Rory knew what he had heard, and wished she could have said it better, had said it _right_.

She wasn't like Lorelai, and wasn't like Christopher, and wasn't like anyone at all except herself, and that wasn't worth anything in the grand scheme of things.

_I'll see you in Colorado._

* * *

The argument was shelved until halfway through the meat course, when Rory swallowed her third bite of chicken and laid down her fork. "I'm going to Colorado," she said when the conversation hit a lull.

Lorelai dropped her knife. Emily exclaimed something, Richard mumbling, and Rory couldn't breathe.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Rory said, not sure if anyone was speaking but it didn't matter because she couldn't hear anyway. "Just for a road trip."

"What the hell is in Colorado?" Lorelai demanded. Her voice was breaking into a thousand tiny shards, ripping Rory to shreds.

Rory laid trembling hands on the tablecloth. "A change of scenery. Something different. I've got enough money saved for a plane ticket."

"But..." Lorelai shoved her chair back, threw her napkin on her plate, and stormed from the room.

Emily watched her daughter go, then placed her own napkin by her plate. "I will be right back," she said, giving Richard a look.

Richard cleared his throat. "Well. This is certainly a surprise," he said to Rory.

"I need something different," Rory heard herself say. "This... I just don't think that staying in Stars Hollow is what I need right now."

"If that's what you want." Richard stood and left the room, but was back in a moment, checkbook in hand.

"No," Rory said immediately. "I'm not asking for money."

"I know." Richard sat back down and took out a pen. "I'm not offering you a gift, I'm offering you a loan. Against your trust fund."

"Grandpa--"

"Rory, be sensible. You may have enough for a plane ticket, but you need money for housing and food and a return ticket." He filled out the blanks on the check. "When you turn twenty-five and have access to your trust fund, you can pay me back for this at the same time as you pay me back for Yale." He handed Rory the check. "Yes, I know full well that you had planned to pay me back from your great-grandmother's trust fund."

One thousand dollars. He had given her a check for double what she had worked so hard for over the past months. She wanted to give it back, to run from this house with its easy money and promises of perpetual lies.

But...

There was pity and there was charity and there was pride, and there was being stuck in Colorado with no way home.

Her skin felt dirty as she folded the check in half and laid it beside the plate.

"Thank you, Grandpa," Rory said, making herself smile. Everyone had their price, and Rory had just found out what she would sell herself for.

* * *

Lorelai called in sick to work the next day to drive Rory to the airport in Hartford. In spite of the kind gesture, Lorelai didn't appear to be speaking to her daughter, and they spent the drive in silence.

Lorelai parked the car in the short-term lot and walked beside Rory to the check-in desk, then to the baggage check.

Wondering if the silent treatment would ever end, Rory fingered Jack O'Neill's card in her pocket and thought of seventeen ways to say goodbye.

"Okay, here's the deal," Lorelai said suddenly. She planted herself in front of Rory and crossed her arms over her chest. "I think just deciding to go off to Colorado without a game plan is stupid and reckless and yes, even a little crazy."

Rory wanted to agree with her. Wanted to, but she needed to go. She needed to find the people who'd put those broken numbers together, find the man who might be her father, find something that would make her whole life be less of a lie.

"And I don't know what's up with you and I wish you'd tell me, but maybe you need to do this." Lorelai took a deep breath. "Do you have your cell phone?"

"Yes."

"If you need anything, at _all_ , call me. I don't care what time of day or night, I'll be there."

Rory shifted her backpack up on her shoulder and stepped closer to her mother. The arms she wrapped around Lorelai were too thin, too sharp, but it was all she had. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, babe." Lorelai's hugs still made Rory feel safe, even after twenty-four years and so many lies. "More than anything in the universe."

Rory let go first, pulling away reluctantly. "I have to go through security," she said, scuffing her feet and feeling four years old. "I'll call you when the plane lands."

"You'd better." Lorelai touched Rory's cheek. "I know Grandpa gave you an insane amount of money last night--"

"A loan."

"Whatever. The check's in the bank, right?" Lorelai dug into her pocket and pulled out a twenty. "For a magazine or chips or something."

Rory frowned at the bill. There was a slight ink stain in the corner she remembered. "This is from the rent money I left on your dresser."

"Do we have to have this argument in the airport?" Lorelai asked. "Seriously?"

 _I've been lying to you,_ Rory wanted to say, but the words stuck like glass in her throat. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't be stupid," Lorelai said, hugging Rory again. "It's just a twenty."

"I'm doing this for a reason," Rory said against Lorelai's shoulder. "Promise."

"You always have a reason," Lorelai said. "Now." She pulled away again. "Get thee to security. You can tell me all about it when you come back."

Rory pocketed the twenty. "Take care of Paul Anka," she said, suddenly loathe to leave. "You know how much he likes those early-morning walks."

"I will."

"And when you go into Luke's next, order a burger with brie cheese on it. Lane's getting everyone to do it to pester Luke."

"Come on, pestering Luke is a Lorelai specialty," Lorelai said. Her eyes were beginning to mist up. "Now go, before I turn into a blubbering mess."

Rory turned and walked away from her mother towards the security checkpoint. For the first time since she'd learned that Christopher Hayden wasn't her biological father, she thought, maybe, she would have a chance to figure out some truths about herself.

* * *

Before she boarded the plane, she telephoned General Jack O'Neill and left a message with his secretary that her connecting flight would be landing in a few hours in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

* * *


	5. Under the Mountain

The Colorado sunlight bounced through the windows and off the walls and made Rory's head ache. Around her, a sea of humanity flowed in and out, moving around benches and walls and signs, a living, breathing mass.

Rory sat distant, motionless, falling apart at the seams.

Two hours and thirteen minutes since her plane landed in Colorado Springs. One hour and fifty-six minutes since she had retrieved her suitcase from the gently spinning luggage belt. One hour and forty-nine minutes since she had calculated the most visible bench from the airport's main doors, and sat down to wait for Jack O'Neill to find her.

Lorelai's voice in her head told her to _get off your duff, kid, and give him a call._ But Rory remained still, rooted in place by gravity and the weight of not knowing who she was, what she wanted.

Her backpack rested against her knee, holding her laptop and a book she would never read. Her cell phone was tucked into her jacket pocket, turned off after a quick phone call to Lorelai. _I'm fine, don't worry about me, I love you._ One truth amongst the lies.

Maybe... Rory gave her head a quick shake. No, she hadn't imagined Jack O'Neill. Mrs. Kim had seen him and told Lorelai, and Lorelai had told Rory, and it was real. She hadn't started seeing and hearing things that weren't real.

Two hours and twenty-one minutes since her plane landed in Colorado Springs.

The sunlight sparkled along the metal holding up the walls, bouncing around in the way light _should_. It trickled over the people, over the mass of humanity, dancing and spinning and taunting Rory.

She clenched her fists around her backpack strap. She would not think about light now. She had to concentrate on looking for Jack O'Neill.

The light sparkled off surfaces, different faces, a same face. Rory dropped her gaze, frowning. She had seen that same-different face that very morning in Stars Hollow, at the diner.

The same-different face from four rows behind her seat on the airplane.

The same-different face, waiting in the airport for two hours and twenty-nine minutes since the plane landed.

Then footsteps, moving against the crowd.

Rory let her gaze drift upwards. Jack O'Neill flowed through the crowd, through the sea of humanity that parted for him, giving wide berth to his blue uniform with its stars on the shoulders and bright colors over his heart. When he saw her looking, he gave her a smile.

"Hey, you're still here," he said in that laid-back voice she remembered faintly from the previous day. "I didn't think you'd be heading over so soon."

Rory stood up, backpack knocking against her knees and she was sixteen again, her first day of Chilton with strangers' eyes watching, disapproving. "You said you'd see me in Colorado."

"Yes, I did." He clapped his hands together. "This it?"

She heard his words but didn't quite understand. "Sir?"

"Jack."

"If you wanted people to address you as Jack, you wouldn't have worn the uniform."

Jack glanced down at his dress blues. "Good point." He cocked an eyebrow. "Do you have any more luggage or is this it?"

Backpack in hand, suitcase at her feet, and an assortment of change in her pocket. "This is all."

Jack reached down and took the suitcase handle. "Distinctive," he commented as he guided Rory towards the exit. She followed in his wake.

"Some jerk in New York stole my luggage tag a couple of years ago," Rory told him. "So I just slapped some stickers on the case."

"They do make replacement luggage tags."

"It wouldn't be the same. I went to Europe twice with that tag." Rory slowed as Jack went up to a big black car. Out of the driver's seat stepped a young man in a blue uniform similar to Jack's, but with less colorful decoration. The young man took the suitcase, opened the trunk and placed the case inside. "You have a driver?"

"Job perk," Jack said. "Come on, get in. We need to hustle, I have another appointment in a little while."

"Oh." Rory reached for the handle but jerked back as the young uniformed man stepped up and opened the door for her. "I can--" She stopped, swallowed, kept her head held high. "Thank you."

He inclined his head, face impassive. "Ma'am."

The leather seats were plush and warm, a welcome change from the airport's cold bench. Rory slipped her backpack to the floor and buckled herself in.

Jack hopped into the other side of the backseat. "Airman, let's go," he said as he slammed his door.

"Sir."

Rory wondered if they were going to wait for the woman with the same-different face, but didn't want to ask. She supposed that the woman's purpose had been served, and she could go back to her real face and real life elsewhere.

"How was your flight?" Jack was saying.

"Why did you come to see me in Stars Hollow?" Rory countered.

"What do you mean?"

"Why send a general? One with a DC area code?" Rory closed her eyes as the afternoon glare stabbed its way into her headache.

"Just 'cause." Jack pulled off his hat and tossed it to his lap. "It's my area of specialty."

"But it's not."

"Not the science," Jack admitted. "But the other stuff."

"What 'other stuff'?"

Jack reached into the briefcase at his feet and pulled out a thick document. "Here."

Rory hesitatingly took the offered packet. "What is this?"

"The non-disclosure agreement. It'll save time if you read it now."

Rory smoothed out the flat paper. "And if I sign this, you'll tell me about Rodney McKay?"

"Sure."

 _Read quietly and don't interrupt the class,_ Rory heard echoed from years past. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and bent over the paper. _Be a good girl. Fold your hands and don't look behind you and don't talk back._

She didn't know what she was doing here.

Two hours and fifty-eight minutes since her plane landed in Colorado Springs.

* * *

"Please wait here," said the man, organized as only a lawyer could be. He gathered up the papers where Rory had signed her life away, and bustled out of the tiny room.

Rory tried to stay calm, but it was just like the room where they took her after she was arrested for stealing that boat. The walls were too close and the air dead, with only artificial light illuminating the tabletop.

"You okay?" Jack asked from across the table.

"I'm fine."

"Claustrophobic?"

Rory shook her head, once, twice, three times. "I'm fine."

"If you say so."

Rory pressed her hands flat to the tabletop. She would not panic. They wanted her here. "I stole a boat."

"Oh yeah?"

Jack didn't seem surprised, but still... "A yacht, actually. They arrested me and I did community service." The sour failure of that whole year pressed back on her, with its lingering thrill of doing something that hadn't been preordained. Community service and living the life of a failure was something that had been all hers, no matter how quickly she pulled her life back together.

Look where 'together' got her. Sweeping up glass in Luke's diner after the morning rush.

"We know all that."

"Oh." Rory rubbed at an ink stain on her thumb. "I suppose being stalked by the U.S. Military would cause that to be on file."

"It wasn't stalking," Jack protested. "Think of it as the Air Force having an interest in you. It's.... flattering."

"It's a violation of my constitutional rights."

"But in a flattering way."

The lawyer came back in. He handed Rory a small badge and a packet of papers. "Ms. Gilmore. A copy of the agreement. Wear this badge at all times when you are on base."

"What happens if I take it off?" Rory asked, unable to help herself.

"Flying monkeys," Jack said, standing.

"Everyone on base must wear military-issued identification," the lawyer said. He did not look at Jack. "Do not take it off."

Rory glanced at Jack.

"Seriously, flying monkeys," he repeated.

Rory looked at the badge. Her face stared back at her, along with her name and series of numbers, and a bar code. The shadows under the photograph's eyes startled her. The resemblance to sixteen-year-old Rodney McKay was more pronounced than ever.

Rory clipped the badge to her breast pocket.

The lawyer inclined his head. "If you have any doubts about the agreement, or your security clearance, contact my office at any hour of the day. Caution is of the utmost importance at Cheyenne Mountain, Ms. Gilmore." He held out his hand. "Welcome."

Rory shook the offered hand, mindful of her manners. "Thank you."

Jack spun his hat in his hands, impatient. "Come on, we need to get moving."

"But my bags--"

"An airman will bring them down. Hop to."

Rory had to hurry to keep up with the general. They turned down corridors and went through security checkpoints. Once Rory set off a metal detector with her belt buckle, and another they made her stand in what looked like a metal detector, but it shone lights over her skin.

Finally, they made it to an elevator. Jack swiped a card inside the elevator, and pressed a button. The doors closed.

Rory stared at the buttons. "They're upside down," she noted. "Small numbers at the top."

"They're not upside down."

"Then..." Rory felt the ground under her feet lurch and descend. "We're going down?"

"Underground."

Rory watched the numbers grow large as they sank through the earth. "Can you tell me about Rodney McKay now?"

Jack leaned back against the elevator wall. "It's... complicated."

Rory watched the lights and felt the earth press down upon her head. "Please."

Rory did not accept charity and she did not beg, but she had learned the previous day for what she would sell herself.

Jack chewed on his lip for a second. "It's a very serious matter," he said, sounding doubtful. "It really is complicated, with lots of... details."

"Is he dead?"

"Who, McKay? No, McKay's alive. He's like one of those things with nine lives."

"A cat?"

"Them too." Jack tucked his hat under his arm. "He's a civilian consultant on a joint military-civilian expedition."

"Doing what?"

"That's classified," Jack said.

"But you gave me security clearance--"

"Preliminary clearance," Jack clarified. "We're waiting for some more of the paperwork to go through. For now, I've told you all I can."

Rory turned towards the elevator doors, willing herself not to cry. She couldn't have come all this way, come so close to finding the truth, and be knocked to her knees by bureaucracy.

It wasn't _right._

"Ah, here we are," Jack said as the elevator slowed. He pushed off the wall as the doors opened.

A dark-haired woman stood in the hallway, arms crossed over her chest. She glowered up at Jack.

"No," Jack said abruptly, stalking past the woman.

"It's not fair!" the woman exclaimed, uncrossing her arms and hurrying after Jack. Not sure what she should do, Rory trailed along after Jack. "You're taking Teal'c out into the world and not me!"

"Vala, not now!"

"I'll behave!"

"You never behave!"

"Please!" She took a few running steps to cut Jack off at a corner. "I'm absolutely adorable at sporting events! Everybody says so!"

"No, they don't," Jack snapped.

"No, they don't," the woman, Vala, agreed. Jack stepped around her and continued on down the hall. "But they would if I had a chance to go to the game with you and Teal'c!"

As Rory tried to walk around the woman to follow Jack, she caught Vala's attention.

"Hello," Vala said, puzzlement in her voice. To Rory's ears, she sounded vaguely British, but there was an underlying twist in her words that wasn't quite right. "I suppose you get to go to the game too?"

"I don't think so," Rory stammered. She caught up with Jack. "Is that the appointment you need to get to?"

"Sort of."

"Who's playing?"

"The Air Force Falcons have a divisional game tonight."

"Oh." Rory heard determined boot steps approaching. Vala was closing in on them. "What sport do they play?"

Vala ducked around them again. Walking backwards, she pointed a finger at Rory. "I've got it! I beat you in a game of dice on Jahnine three years ago!"

Rory stopped abruptly to avoid being poked in the eye. "I don't gamble."

"Are you sure? You look very familiar."

Jack took Rory's elbow gently and pulled her along the hallway.

"Did I steal a cargo ship from your father on Ladrin?"

"A what? From where?"

"Vala, she doesn't have the security clearance to hear about these things!" Jack said loudly.

"Then why is she at the SGC?" Vala asked. Realization lit up the woman's face. "Oh, she's the girl Daniel thinks was made much smarter by the Ancients--"

"Ah!" Jack exclaimed, whirling. "Stop!"

Vala put her hands behind her back and bowed her head in a non-convincing imitation of contrition.

Rory pulled her arm away from Jack and took a few steps back. "You think something else made me smart?" she asked. Her voice sounded as if it came from a long way away. _Falling_.

"Rodney McKay!" Vala exclaimed before Jack could speak. "She looks just like Rodney McKay! Are you another one of his brilliant yet lovely-mannered sisters?"

Jack pushed open a door marked 'Infirmary'. "Look, I'll explain everything inside."

Rory took another step backwards.

"Please, kid, it's all okay."

Vala patted Rory's arm. "Don't worry, they very seldom torture anyone down here, unless it's making them listen to long lectures on boring subjects and then refuse to take them to sports games."

Rory started at the overhead lights and felt the earth press down upon her head. "You know Rodney McKay?" she asked Vala.

"Of course!" Vala said confidently, linking her arm with Rory's. "We're friends." She paused. "Acquaintances, actually. Well, I could pick him out of a crowd. He's usually the one complaining loudly." As she spoke, Vala led Rory to the infirmary door.

"And he's alive?"

"Goodness, yes. He's like one of those things with nine lives."

"A cat?"

"That too."

Jack grabbed Vala's jumpsuit and hauled her backwards as she protested loudly.

"Please, Jack, I'm bored!"

"Don't care, Vala." He shut the door firmly in her face.

Rory stared up at Jack. "You think I'm not supposed to be this smart."

A serious expression crossed Jack's face. "Something you said the other day--"

"Yesterday."

"Yeah, that." He bit his lip. "I'll let the doctor explain."

As if on cue, a woman in a white lab coat came out of an office. "General," she greeted Jack. "You're late."

"We were ambushed," Jack said by way of apology.

"Vala still upset about the game?" The doctor smiled. "I'm Dr. Caroline Lam," she said to Rory. "You must be Lorelai Gilmore."

"I go by Rory," Rory corrected. "There's really only one Lorelai." She paused. "Actually, three of us."

Dr. Lam guided Rory over to a stretcher. "I'd like to take a medical history and take some blood, perform a few tests."

"Why?"

"All incoming personnel receive the same tests," Dr. Lam said. "And General O'Neill has indicated that you might be related to Dr. Rodney McKay. We are going to do a DNA test to determine that relationship."

"But I thought he wasn't here."

"He's not, but we have blood samples for everyone in his expedition."

"Oh." She might find out if Rodney McKay was her father. Wasn't that the whole reason she was here? Why didn't that make her feel any better?

Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Look, Doc, I'm going to run."

"General," the doctor said as she walked across the room.

"So." Jack gave Rory a look. "You going to be okay?"

"I'm not... I'm not on anything to make me smarter," Rory said. "I'm just like this."

"I know." Jack smiled. "Just let the Doc do her thing. We'll put you up for the night and everything."

"You mean keep me here."

"I mean put you up for the night. If this doesn't work out, you can always leave."

Rory looked away. "Why did you come see me in Stars Hollow?"

"Someone had to."

"Why not someone else?"

Jack looked over Rory's shoulder for a moment. "We needed to make sure you weren't a plant."

"I thought the Air Force was generally worried about fruits," Rory said before she could stop the words from coming out of her mouth. She winced. "Sorry."

The corner of Jack's mouth twitched. "You know what I mean."

"The Cold War's over."

Jack stepped back. "You sure of that?" was his parting shot.

Rory stared as the door swung shut behind General Jack O'Neill. She was brought back to herself as Dr. Lam touched her arm. "Ms. Gilmore?"

"Sorry," Rory said. She cleared her throat. "So what now?"

The _tests_ had required more than blood work. A nurse in blue scrubs took six vials of blood while the doctor did all the usual doctor tests, blood pressure and flashing lights into eyes.

The MRI of her head hadn't made any sense, but Rory had lain back and thought of England and the dark-haired woman who knew her father.

Finally, when everything was finished, Dr. Lam let Rory put her jacket back on and guided her to yet another stretcher on the other side of the infirmary. A balding man in a lab coat poked at a strange-looking machine, while another man, this one in a military uniform, stood waiting.

"Rory Gilmore, this is General Landry, this facility's commanding officer," Dr. Lam said.

"Hello, sir," Rory said nervously. All these generals were making her nervous. They had to have less senior officers around. Why did she rank all the attention?

"Ms. Gilmore," General Landry said briskly. "I've heard a lot about you from General O'Neill. You helped solve a bit of a dilemma yesterday?"

From behind the machine, the other man's head popped out. "She sure did," he said happily. "Ms. Gilmore, I'm Dr. Bill Lee, it's so good to meet you." He came over and shook Rory's hand hard. "Those solutions you gave General O'Neill are working like a charm in simulations--"

"All in time, Dr. Lee," General Landry interrupted. "First, the machine?"

"Oh, right." Dr. Lee picked up a long black strap, tethered to the machine by several long cables. "There's one last test we'd like you to take. This machine reads synaptic function. We'd like to see how much of your brain you use."

Rory looked at the strap, the two men, then Dr. Lam. "Is this part of figuring out if something else made me smart?"

The general and Dr. Lam exchange a glance. Before either could speak, a familiar voice piped up in the background. "That's all my fault, sorry!"

Dr. Lam frowned. "What the..." She pulled back a nearby curtain, to reveal Vala perched on a stretcher.

"Hullo again," Vala said cheerfully.

Dr. Lam looked around at the tiny enclosed space. " _How_ did you get in here?"

"Vala," General Landry said in a tone of long suffering, "What did you tell her?"

"Well, it was a total accident," Vala said. "I _thought_ that since Daniel told me that Jack would have told McKay here--"

"Gilmore," Rory interjected.

"Yes, sorry, Gilmore." Vala waved away the interruption. "That you think the You-Know-Whats made her smarter because really, it's happened before. I didn't want her to get into trouble."

The general glared.

"Well, actually, because she didn't have proper security clearance, I didn't want _me_ to get into trouble." Vala smiled brilliantly. "See? It's all coming together now."

General Landry turned his back on Vala. "Doctors, Ms. Gilmore. Get to it."

Still grinning, Vala gave Rory the thumbs-up.

Dr. Lee waited until Rory was seated on the stretcher, then fitted the strap around her head. "This will measure your synaptic activity."

"Okay," Rory said, feeling rather ridiculous. "Is this it?"

"No," Dr. Lee said apologetically. He handed her a pile of papers. "We want you to look at these papers while we--"

"Measure the girth of her intellect?" Vala contributed.

"Determine how your brain activity changes as you work."

Rory took a deep breath against the growing panic in her head. She hadn't known there would be a test. She had only been working with mathematics and physics for a few months, and the previous day was the first time she had written anything down.

She refused to throw up. She'd made it through Chilton and Yale and community service and Mitchum Huntzberger, and she could make it through this.

At first, the numbers on the page made no sense, but then she blinked hard and concentrated, and comprehension came.

There were five research papers on seemingly disparate subjects, talking about theoretical physics and things that couldn't be verified through experimentation, like wormholes and intergalactic travel and thermodynamics and relativity.

Forgetting the strap around her head, forgetting her audience, Rory buried herself in the pages, in the numbers. She sorted the papers into order, chicken before egg before wormholes before intergalactic travel.

But... something was missing. Something necessary for the last paper to make any sense at all.

Reluctantly pulling herself free of the numbers, Rory looked up at Dr. Lee. "It's not here."

"What's not?" the man asked, apprehensive. Waiting. Hoping.

"Some glue to hold it all together. I mean, it works if you account for interstellar and intergalactic drift, and for the laws of thermodynamics and of power conservation..." Even as Rory spoke, a shiver of light danced across the page and Rory _understood._ "The only way you could have arrived at these numbers in this last paper would be to somehow harness zero point energy."

Her words fell into the room like a stone in a pond.

"What?" Rory asked, confused. Everyone stared at her.

Everyone except Vala. The woman paused in dissecting what looked suspiciously like a Kinder Egg, and said, "Well, darling, that officially makes you the smartest person in the room."

What had she said?


	6. Play Smart For The Home Team

"Here's the mess, ma'am," said the airman, holding open the door for Rory. "After you."

Rory stepped into the cafeteria, conscious that the airman followed her. General Landry had instructed the man to "show her around" but to Rory it felt like being jailed.

 _Not jail,_ she corrected as she picked up a tray. _Jail was never this dark, surrounded by concrete and pipes and people in camouflage._

The police holding cell had never made Rory feel so trapped.

She hesitated in the line, not sure if she even wanted to eat at all. Behind her, a couple of military men clattered flatware onto trays, looking at her impatiently.

 _Hold your head high, kid, you're a Gilmore,_ Lorelai's voice echoed in Rory's mind. Rory tightened her grip on her tray as she looked at the men. 

"Please, go ahead of me," Rory said.

One of the men gave her a cheeky grin. "Sure thing, ma'am." His accent slurred the words into slow molasses, _shore thang, maaam._ As he squeezed past Rory in line, he gave her a stage whisper, "The Mac 'n Cheese is the best thing they got."

His buddy hit him on the shoulder.

"Thank you," Rory said with a smile and a flicker of eyelid, coquettish without meaning to be and it made her nervous, that she couldn't stop being Emily Gilmore's granddaughter this far underground.

When the line was clear ahead of her, she set a plate of Mac n' Cheese next to her fork.

The rest of the line was just like it had been at Chilton; sandwiches and salads, then drinks and desserts. The line ended abruptly at condiments. Rory looked around. Was she supposed to pay? Was there a card swiper somewhere she couldn't see? Would they ask her to leave the mountain if she didn't pay for her food?

She took a step into the seating area, then another. No noise sounded, no protests from the food line staff. Wondering if she would ever feel like a grown up, Rory turned her attention to finding a seat. The seating area was crowded, people at every table talking to each other, ignoring her completely.

Rory didn't understand herself. She had flown across the country on the half-believable words of an Air Force General, had done some math that had made another general freak out, and now all she could think about was not being able to find a place to sit in the cafeteria.

Some days, she had Lorelai's sense when it came to short term priorities.

Something caught her eye. In the far corner of the room, next to a sandy-haired man sat Vala, motioning Rory over. Although technically Vala wasn't 'motioning' so much as bouncing up and down, waving her hands in a vague approximation of semaphore. Hoping the gesture was one of welcome, Rory slipped through the tables to the other side of the room.

"Good, you saw me," Vala said when Rory was in earshot. "Come, sit. I'm bored."

"I won't be bothering you?" Rory asked. Manners were important, after all, even this far underground.

Vala waved her hand towards the man, who, Rory noted, was ignoring Vala in favor of an old book. "Daniel is unavailable at the moment and would like you to leave a message," she said. "You can entertain me."

Rory slid into the seat offered. "Thank you."

Vala put her elbows on the table, smiling expectantly. "Now, tell me what a dazzling urbanite such as yourself is doing in this rustic setting."

Rory dipped her spoon into her dinner, thinking hard. "Is that from Blazing Saddles?"

"I have no idea. I discovered a page on Daniel's computer with movie quotes and I use them for conversation openers with your people. It works marvelously, especially with the strapping young airmen." 

The man at the table blinked hard, looking up. "You're not supposed to be on my computer," he snapped at the woman, then he spotted Rory. "Oh. Hi."

"Hello," Rory said. 

"How long have you been here?" He closed his book. "I'm sorry. I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"Rory Gilmore," Rory said. 

"Yes, yes, I told her all about you," Vala said to Daniel. "We were talking about me--"

"You're the one who thinks the Ancients made me smart?" Rory said quickly, before she lost her nerve. 

The look Daniel shot at Vala could only be described as annoyed. "From what Jack described, it's a possibility that we need to examine."

"Oh." Rory tasted her dinner. To her surprise, it was even better than Luke's. "What are the Ancients?"

Daniel blinked. He opened his mouth to answer, then hesitated. "Your security clearance..."

"Daniel, be nice," Vala said, punching him in the arm. "The poor girl might be related to Rodney McKay, she needs a bit of good news."

The man smiled at Rory apologetically. "Jack said you'd be cleared tomorrow for the full story."

"Oh. That's... yeah. Never mind, I'm new to this whole security clearance." Rory set down her spoon. She would not cry. She was stronger than this, damn it. She could wait until the next day to learn what was going on... if they even let her know then.

Still, the lump in her throat was making it hard to breathe.

"There there," Vala said. She patted Rory's arm awkwardly. "It's not so bad to be related to Rodney McKay. His sister seems to have avoided killing him over the years."

"Sister?" Rory asked. "He has a sister?"

"She--" There was a loud thunk under the table, and Vala glared at Daniel. "Don't kick me, that's not classified!" She turned back to Rory. "She's lovely, almost as smart as Rodney is, at least that's what he said. Personally I think he's threatened by a superior intellect in someone younger than him. He's just going to _love_ you."

An aunt. Somewhere out there, Rory might have an aunt, someone smart, someone lovely. 

"And since I think I might be shot if I tell you any more about anything, you need to tell me about you." 

Rory sipped her coffee. Definitely not as good as at Luke's. "There's not much to tell."

"Liar," Vala pouted. "You've got this entire base in an uproar--"

"She exaggerates," Daniel interrupted.

"--Everyone except Daniel who has his head shoved so far up his--"

"Vala!"

"--Books that he'd never notice a naked woman walk through the dining room--"

"Trust me, Vala, we all saw it and there's no need to do that ever again."

"--So tell your tale, darling. How did you end up at Stargate Command?"

Rory's tongue stilled. _Stargate Command?_ It would tally with all the badges around the place, which read "SGC", but what on earth was a Stargate?

She filed the word away into her mind, to think on later. "I was looking at some physics papers by Rodney McKay--"

"Before that," Vala interrupted. "Back to the beginning. Any interesting life experiences, if you've ever been married, do you believe in extraterrestrial life forms--"

This time, the 'thunk' under the table was much louder.

Vala winced. "That sort of thing."

Rory thought back to the papers she'd seen in the infirmary, and an idea sparked in her imagination. Nothing fully formed, not yet. But growing. 

"Um, well, I went to Yale. My best friend's in a band. And when I was sixteen I went to a debutante ball."

"Sounds fascinating," Vala said, leaning on the table. "What's a debutante?"

There it was again, that strange lilt in the woman's voice, something just a little odd in her words. 

"It's a coming out party."

Vala's eyes grew wide and she shushed Rory. "That's not allowed down here!" she said.

Daniel closed his eyes. "What's not allowed, Vala?" he asked with the familiar tone of long suffering.

"Coming out! I heard--"

"She doesn't mean _coming out_ , coming out. A debutante ball is a variety of coming-of-age ceremony undertaken by American Protestant upper-middle classes for their daughters," Daniel explained.

"We dressed in white ball gowns and were paraded around by our fathers, then we had to do a silly dance," Rory added.

"Ah," Vala said, nodding sagely. "Auctioning the daughters off for sale."

"Not exactly--" Daniel tried to say, but Vala held up her hands. 

"I've been around, Daniel, I know how these things always end. Human culture really is the same across-- well, everywhere." She looked at Rory. "You were telling us how you were auctioned off at sixteen."

Rory, who had been listening to the conversation with an odd sense of familiarity, swallowed her mouthful. It was insane and wacky and just like being home. "They put me on the block but there were no takers," she said. "My mother was supposed to have gone through the same thing at my age, but there was a glitch in the plans."

"She bolted?"

"Rodney McKay apparently knocked her up."

Vala accepted that without batting an eyelash, but Daniel frowned. "Your mother was sixteen?"

"How old do you think McKay is?" Vala interjected. "Now shush, Rory's telling me all about your quaint Earth customs."

The phrase _Earth customs_ wouldn't have set off any alarm bells in Rory's head, except for the way Daniel winced. 

_Interesting._ Not that she believed in aliens, of course, but maybe Vala was just as crazy as everyone back home thought about Rory. 

_Then what's a Stargate? And why would Dr. Lee have papers about intergalactic travels?_

Rory tapped her spoon against her plate. "Have you ever heard of a banana split?"

Vala raised her eyebrows. "It sounds painful."

"Not if you're doing it right." Emboldened by the conversation, Rory flashed Vala a smile.

Daniel choked on his coffee.

* * *

Rory stared up at the concrete ceiling of her borrowed room. Vala had convinced the kitchen staff to make a triple-sized banana split, and somehow Rory had been roped into eating half of it. She hadn't felt this ill since Lorelai's last movie night. 

"And now I can't sleep."

The words were swallowed by the concrete walls and the soft light and the miles of earth pressing down on her. The pressure made it easier to concentrate. 

Staring but not seeing, Rory laid her points of consideration out in her mind. Wormhole physics. Intergalactic travel. Thermodynamics. 

Stargate Command.

Vala's queries of 'Earth customs'.

Something Ancient that could make a person smarter.

Dr. Lee's reaction to her comments about zero point energy.

Stargate Command.

Wormhole physics.

Intergalactic travel.

Zero point energy.

Stargate Command.

Intergalactic travel.

Stargate. Star. Gate.

Rory sat bolt upright on her bed, mouth hanging open. "You have got to be kidding me!" 

She scrambled to her feet and was at the door in an instant. She yanked the door open and found herself staring at a startled guard. 

"Stargates?" Rory demanded.

The man nodded once, looking confused.

Rory shut her door again. That morning, she'd been eating french toast in Luke's Diner in Stars Hollow, and now she was miles underground, surrounded by military personnel and, in Vala's case, someone who was possibly from another world.

And she couldn't even call Lorelai to tell her about it!

Letting out a frustrated growl, Rory stalked over to her backpack. She had a pad of paper in there, and a handful of physics papers on wormholes were saved on her laptop. Every detail of Dr. Lee's papers still danced in her head. 

_Stargates_. 

Rory pulled out her pen. She was going to figure out if wormhole travel was actually possible if it killed her.

* * *

"You look like crap."

Rory bent over her cup of coffee. "Sugar hangover. No sleep. Need coffee." 

Vala, bright-eyed and pigtailed, bounced along the set of metal shutters built into a wall, and came to rest in the chair next to Rory at the big briefing room table. "Why no sleep?"

Wondering who she would have to bribe to get for a coffee IV drip, Rory stabbed her pen at the sheaf of papers in front of her. "I was working."

Vala craned her neck to look at the pages. "Sam was never this grumpy after an all-nighter," she said. "What were you working on?"

"Trying to prove the feasibility of intergalactic wormhole travel, seeing as how we're at Stargate Command," Rory said. It came out crankier than she would have liked, but it was too early for polite conversation. 

"And?" came a voice from the side of the room. Jack O'Neill came hopping up the steps, followed by a very tall, very muscular black man. "How did it all come out?"

Light spun lazily around Jack, and Rory turned her eyes away from the glare. "Leaving out _how_ you'd focus zero point energy, it would be the only way to open a wormhole across the distance between two galaxies."

Vala held up her hands. "I didn't say a thing to her!" she said quickly.

"I know," Jack said. "There was a reason Daniel was hanging out with you all night."

Vala's jaw dropped. "I'm shocked! I'm hurt! You distrust me that much--"

"Yada yada," Jack said. "I told you she was this smart, Hank."

"You did indeed." General Landry came into the room, followed by Dr. Lam. "Shall we all be seated? Where's Dr. Jackson?"

"Here," Daniel said as he hurried into the room, narrowly missing a collision with Jack. "Sorry I'm late."

"Not a problem, Dr. Jackson." General Landry waited until everyone was seated around the big table. "Well, Ms. Gilmore, I believe you've met everyone here except for Teal'c."

The big man, with an odd gold marking on his forehead, inclined his head in Rory's direction. She gave him a tiny wave before picking up her coffee cup to keep her hands occupied.

"First off, Ms. Gilmore, your security clearance has been expanded," the general continued. "Which will make this conversation a little easier."

Rory eyed the man. "What conversation? About intergalactic wormhole travel?"

"Actually," Dr. Lam said, "There's something first that you need to know."

"What?"

"The DNA results came back."

Rory set her coffee cup back on the table so quickly she sloshed liquid onto her notes. "And?" 

The woman smiled slightly at Rory. "Your DNA is a match with Dr. McKay's. He is your biological father."

"He's..." Rory pressed her hands into her lap. "You're sure?"

It was ridiculous. They'd just given her what she wanted, proof that Rodney McKay was her father, and she was already trying to find a flaw in their logic. It had been too easy. 

_If you call this easy._

"We ran a second comparison with Jeannie Miller's DNA as well," Dr. Lam was saying. "She's Dr. McKay's sister, and was recently at the SGC for medical treatment. Everything falls in line with the proper genetic relationships."

Rory could barely hear the doctor over the pounding in her head. She had a father again, and an aunt.

And now she had to find a way to explain this to Lorelai.

The thought threw cold water over Rory's confused mental processes. She took a deep breath and looked up to see everyone staring at her. "Sorry."

"It's all right," General Landry said. "There's more."

This time, Daniel spoke up. "To summarize an extremely long story," he said, "Millions of years ago, an alien race we call the Ancients came to Earth. They built an intergalactic network of Stargates, a method of traveling between star systems and even galaxies. They left Earth about million years ago. We discovered Earth's Stargate buried at Giza and took up where they left off, exploring our galaxy and others."

"Which is part of why we're having this conversation," General Landry continued. He stood up and walked to the wall, pressing a button built into the concrete. The metal shutters began to rise. Unbidden, Rory pushed out of her chair and walked slowly to the windows.

The windows revealed a large stone ring, covered with carvings and crystals, surrounded by machinery. The scale of the thing, the potential, was breathtaking. 

Rory just stared. 

"So, what do you think?" Jack asked, coming to stand beside her. 

A dozen responses drifted through Rory's head, wanting to acknowledge the scale and gravity of the situation. Instead, she asked, "You brought me to the set of Wormhole X-Treme?"

Behind them, Vala started laughing.

"No," Jack snapped. "Wormhole X-Treme was based on us."

"Oh." Rory stared at the Stargate a little longer. "Wait, on who?"

"Us." Jack gestured over his shoulder. 

Rory stared up at him. The corner of her mouth twitched. "Which one were you?"

"He's Colonel Danning," Vala contributed. "Daniel, you owe me ten dollars."

"No, I don't." Daniel joined Jack and Rory by the window. "Look, Ms. Gilmore, I know this is a lot to take in--"

"Do you use the Stargate for primarily interstellar or intergalactic travel?" Rory interrupted. "Do you actually _have_ access to zero point energy? How were you able to contain the energy?"

Jack and Daniel exchanged a look. "Oh yeah, she's fine," Jack said. "Dr. Lee will give you the big grand tour of the science stuff later on."

Rory wrapped her arms around her stomach. "Really?" she whispered. Light moved carefully around the Stargate, not splintering as light _should_. She wanted to know more. 

She needed _more_.

"Sure thing." Jack went back to his chair. "So, Doc, is there anything else? About her brain?"

Dr. Lam opened up her laptop. A screen on the far wall came to life. "Yesterday while Ms. Gilmore was working with Dr. Lee, we monitored her synaptic activity." A colorful brain scan appeared on the wall screen. 

"And?" Jack asked, exuding boredom.

"While her synaptic activity was slightly higher than an average person, there was no spike in her brain waves when she had her epiphany about zero point energy."

"So she's normal?"

Dr. Lam hesitated. "There is no evidence of intervention by the Ancients, but we can't be sure if there was any initial intervention continuing to Ms. Gilmore's recent rise in mathematical skill."

"So they may have meddled or not," Jack stated.

"We can't be sure."

"Great," Jack said, clapping his hands. "She'll stay this way?"

"I can't see why not--"

"Good." Jack pushed some paper towards Rory. "Do you want a job here? Being smart for the home team?"

"You mean we get to keep her?" Vala asked, perking up. 

"She's not a puppy, Vala!"

"Yes, Daniel, I know that." Vala grabbed the papers. "They're giving you a signing bonus? I didn't get a signing bonus!"

General Landry yanked the papers out of Vala's hands. "Ms. Gilmore, if you could please sit down. At this point, I think you need the slightly longer version of Earth's history with the Stargate Program."

Rory didn't move. "Where is Rodney McKay?"

A shiver of stillness covered the table. Rory's much-abused stomach flipped over. What was so wrong, that no one would tell her?

Vala was giving everyone a strange look. "Honestly," she muttered. "It's like this--"

"Vala, don't," Daniel said. "Ms. Gilmore, after the Ancients left Earth, they took their city, Atlantis, to the Pegasus Galaxy. Your father is one of the original Atlantis Expedition members that left Earth over three years ago."

Rory ran her hands along the glass of the window separating her from the Stargate. "He's in another galaxy."

"Yes."

"In the lost city of Atlantis. And they got there through a... wormhole."

Any answer they might have had for her was lost as loud alarms sounded. People began to rush into the Stargate room. "Unscheduled off-world activation!" came over a loudspeaker. "General Landry, report to the control room."

General Landry was on his feet and halfway down the stairs when the anonymous voice sounded. Rory pressed her hand to the glass, unable to do anything more than stare as the orange crystals on the Stargate lit up at once.

An explosion of unstable energy gathered at the edges of the Stargate, then punched into the room before settling back to a flat, rippling event horizon.

A metal shield swirled over the event horizon for a moment, then retracted and a group dressed in military camouflage walked through the event horizon.

People were walking _through a stable wormhole_ miles underneath Cheyenne Mountain in the middle of Colorado, and such miracles happened every day. Rory's father had done the same thing to go to another galaxy, to a city of legend and myth.

_Atlantis._

Dimly, Rory was aware that she was not the only one at the window. Jack, Daniel, Vala and even the forbidding Teal'c all stood by the glass at her side, looking down at the event horizon. 

Twenty-four hours ago, Rory had been sweeping up broken glass in the diner, waiting to gather a seventy-seven cent tip from beside Kirk's plate. 

Now, everything she had ever wanted, the entire _galaxy_ , was laid out at her feet. 

She tried to feel elated or happy, but all she could concentrate on the joint sensations of too much coffee and too little sleep churning in her stomach.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Yeah," Jack commiserated. "Sunday morning briefings affect me the same way."

* * *


	7. Almost Everything About Almost Everything

Daniel walked the halls of the SGC, mind planets away. While Mitchell was away at his parents' house on emergency medical leave after his father's almost-fatal heart attack, SG-1 was planet-bound. Not that Daniel minded the chance to get some work done, but he was itching to go back to those fascinating ruins off-world.

His fingers tightened around the folder he carried. He had been passing outside the infirmary when Dr. Lam had grabbed him and asked him to drop some information off at Dr. Lee's office. Since it was a task that was unlikely to put him in Vala's way, Daniel had accepted.

Not that he had anything against Vala most days, but her job in life seemed to be the total distraction of Daniel Jackson.

Or, at least, it had been. Daniel frowned as he ducked into the elevator. Ever since Rory Gilmore had arrived at the SGC, Vala had been bouncing around with the enthusiasm of an over-sugared child with a new toy.

Daniel soon arrived at Dr. Lee's laboratory, only to find the room empty. He glanced at the file in his hand. Nothing on the papers said Urgent. It would probably be all right if he left the paper for Dr. Lee to find.

The papers were neatly filed on the desk and Daniel was almost out the door when he heard something not usually present on a military base.

Sniffling sobs.

If Daniel had to name his one personality flaw, it would have been curiosity. He'd walked into dangerous situations a-plenty over the years, too curious for his own good. Now, knowing he should leave the office, he edged around the work table towards the back of the room. Someone had curled up on the far side of a filing cabinet, lower legs all that was visible from the center of the room. As Daniel approached, the crying stopped.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asked, torn between embarrassment and concern. SGC scientists did not curl up in corners and cry without very good reasons.

Although he didn't know of any SGC scientists who wore plaid Ked shoes. That only left...

A sniffle preceded a tiny voice saying, "Please go away."

_Rory Gilmore._

Daniel's shoulders slumped. Another of his personality flaws, which Jack had always been quick to point out to anyone who would listen, was the inability to _not_ come to the assistance of the damsel in distress. With Vala being hale and heartily annoying, Daniel hadn't come across any distressed damsels in months.

So, instead of leaving Rory to her breakdown, Daniel rounded the edge of the filing cabinet.

The girl looked up at him, eyes red. "Can this day get any more embarrassing?" she asked, trying to smile. It didn't work. "Do you want something?"

Ignoring his aching back, Daniel sat down on the concrete floor, giving Rory plenty of distance. "I want to make sure you're okay," he said gently. "These past few days must have been overwhelming."

"I guess," Rory replied. She pulled her knees tighter to her chest. Curled up like this, in the dim light of the lab, she appeared very young. "I mean, I find out that aliens are real and are trying to destroy all life in this galaxy and other, and that I have a father no one can stand."

Rory stared at a spot on the floor, fingers working at the worn knee of her cords.

"And..." Her fingers dug deeper into the cloth. "I accidentally called Major Collins 'Captain' and I think it really offended him but I didn't mean to and there's all these _rules_ about rank and position and I can't find anyone to explain them to me and I keep messing up."

That, at least, Daniel could sympathize with. "When I first got back here, I stepped on a bunch of toes too," he offered. "As long as you're not doing it to be rude, people usually let it go."

Rory looked at him. "But I can't find any of this written down anywhere and--"

"You can ask anyone," Daniel interrupted gently.

As Rory continued to stare at him, Daniel started to understand what Jack had meant about the unnerving weight of her gaze.

"But is that the real reason you're in the corner?" he pressed.

Rory's eyes clouded. "No."

Daniel also knew when to wait.

"I... I don't know what I'm doing here." Rory's fingers slid down her pant leg to the floor, where they began to tap in arrhythmic patterns against the concrete. "I don't have a degree in math or any experience with any of this and I'm going to screw something up, bad, I just know it."

"Up until twelve years ago, no one on Earth had any real-world experience with wormhole physics or any of what we now deal with on a weekly basis," Daniel said slowly. "We take theoretical expertise and learned how to apply that to our work. It's..." He adjusted his glasses as he searched for the perfect description. "It's messy and it's not always perfect, but every single person down here knows that it's a process we have to go through."

"But I don't have any of that theoretical experience. I graduated from Yale with a Journalism degree and I spent the last two months sweeping floors in my mother's boyfriend's diner."

"And you managed to learn enough about theoretical mathematics and physics that you could understand some of the most esoteric and advanced science coming out of this program," Daniel added. "You figured out in a few months what takes most people ten years. I'm not saying there aren't gaps in what you know, but in the few days you've been here, you've contributed enough brilliant ideas to keep Dr. Lee and the science team busy for months."

"But that's all I've been doing, giving out ideas," Rory argued. "I don't have the knowledge to make any actual contributions."

Daniel shifted his position on the floor. The hard floor was making his tailbone ache. "You've been here a few days. Give yourself a chance to catch up."

Rory's hands slid flat against the ground. "I don't know if I can."

"Catch up?"

"Work like this." Rory glanced around the room, eyes flicking everywhere, before settling back on Daniel. "Everything I worked for, before, it was all mine and there was no right or wrong, just opinion. I think I grew used to that."

"When you were writing?"

Rory nodded.

"I see." Daniel thought back to the files Jack had shown him, Rory's school transcripts and several of her articles. Her grades were out of the park, the writing technically perfect, but a pervasive sense of exhaustion echoed in her final stories. "Why did you stop writing?"

The crooked smile she gave was so like Rodney McKay, Daniel wondered how the girl's mother hadn't seen it over the years.

"For my entire life, I was surrounded by people who would never say what they meant. Everything was always innuendo and impressions and disappointment. Not my mother," she hastened to add. "But when your mother has you at sixteen, society's disapproval never really goes away. Mom tried to keep away from all that as much as possible, but I still remember everything."

"That must have been hard on you."

"It created a certain sense of solidarity between me and Mom." Rory reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. She handed it to Daniel. "This is us when we went to Europe after I graduated high school."

"You look happy," Daniel offered as he looked at the photograph. In the picture, the girl looked bursting with happiness, her cheeks still carrying the soft roundness of youth. The Rory of now was almost gaunt, pale, with dark circles under her eyes from being in the SGC labs for sixteen hours a day.

Now Daniel understood why Vala had been unfailingly adamant about dragging Rory out to dinner every night.

"I was, I think." Rory took the picture back without looking at it.

"So why did you leave your writing job?" Daniel asked again.

Rory tucked the photograph away. "Because there were no answers. No way of knowing if what I had written was right or wrong, never any way of checking. I got sick of it all after a while. So I went home and was a disappointment to my mother for a few weeks, then I found out that Dad-- Christopher, was sick. You know the rest." She tucked her hair behind her ear, gaze once again resting on the floor. "Everyone thought I went a little crazy for a while, around town."

"Did you?"

Her fingers went back to worrying the fabric of her pant leg. "Maybe," she said after a long pause. "How sane can one be, when one starts envisioning the creation of zero-point energy in one's dinner plate?"

Daniel reached out to pat the girl's shoulder. "It might not be the most mentally healthy activity, but it's why you're here," he told her. "No matter what you might think, your work here is extraordinarily valuable. General Landry and the oversight committee don't keep anyone down here unless they are the best of the best. If you can't pull your weight, they'll let you know."

Rory blinked at him. "Really?"

"Really." Daniel gave his most reassuring smile. "You just keep having your brilliant ideas and we'll keep telling you if you're right."

"Okay." Rory smiled hesitantly.

Daniel slowly got to his feet. He was really too old to sit on concrete floors. "Are you going to be okay?"

Rory took Daniel's outstretched hand to help her stand. "I'll be fine." She bit her lower lip. "Can you not mention the Britney Boy crying fit to Val-- I mean, to anyone? I don't think it'd make me look professional to the other science folks."

"If you want," Daniel said.

"Good." Rory clapped her hands together. "So, back to work. No rest for the McKay genes."

Daniel opened his mouth for a memorable exit line, but Dr. Lee and a gaggle of scientists entered the room, and whatever Daniel might have said would have been superfluous.

In the outside hall, Daniel had only taken five steps before Vala appeared before him. "What were you doing?" Vala demanded.

"Dropping something off for Dr. Lee," Daniel said, trying to duck around the woman, but she blocked him.

"Was Rory doing poorly again?" she asked. "More of the lingering self-doubt and adorable self-abasement?"

Daniel was too tired to try and figure out what Vala meant by that last line. "She's just trying to find her place here."

Vala fixed Daniel with an evil glare. "Did you pull that comforting and warm confidant act? Daniel, how could you? She's just a girl."

Vala's meaning took a moment to sink in. "Oh god!" Daniel exclaimed. "No, she's just a-- No!"

Vala crossed her arms over her chest. "With your track record, how can you blame me for asking? It's been months since you had a cute young female to console." She frowned. "And you never pull that act with me."

Daniel turned around and went down the hall in the other direction.

* * *

Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell, decked out in crisp Air Force blues, strode down the hall past the last ground-level security checkpoint. All in all, life was pretty good at the moment. His father was home from the hospital and was going to be fine, and Mom was busy and distracted. After a week and a half, Cam was back at the SGC, ready for work.

He stepped into the elevator and pushed a button. When he had called from the car, the General's assistant informed Cam of a non-emergency meeting in the board room that morning. Details had been absent, so Cam spent the trip down wondering as to the subject matter. A new planet to explore? A new race of people to meet? Old friends come to visit?

His musings were interrupted a few floors above his destination when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, and a twelve-year old girl stepped into the elevator.

Cam blinked. His second glance at the girl lifted her age up to early twenties, but still, she looked completely out of place at the SGC. A white lab coat covered an outfit completely of bright green -- green shoes, green cords, green t-shirt. There was even a green scrunchie holding the girl's hair back in a ponytail and a green coffee cup in her hand.

The girl never looked up from her notebook, using her cup-holding hand hit a button on the elevator wall. The doors slid shut, and the elevator continued down.

Cam frowned. The girl hadn't seemed to notice him. Not used to being ignored, he edged around to get a better look at her. She had an SGC security badge pinned to her lab coat, at least. But when had they started recruiting out of high school?

There was something familiar about the girl, but Cam couldn't figure out what.

The elevator opened and the girl barreled out, not looking up. Cam opened his mouth to call a warning as she headed directly towards the immovable mountain that was Teal'c, but the man stepped aside deftly at the last moment, avoiding the collision.

An eyebrow raised, Teal'c stepped into the elevator. "Colonel Mitchell," he said in greeting. "It is good to see you returned. How is your father?"

"Dad's going to be fine," Cam said, mind still on a little green girl wandering the halls of the SCG. "That kid..."

To Cam's immense surprise, Teal'c smirked. _Smirked._ "She is the newest scientist working with Dr. Lee on the matter of zero-point energy."

"Her? Why, she's only a little sprig of a thing."

"Indeed." The doors opened and Teal'c and Cam both stepped out of the elevator. "But that is only to be expected."

Cam waited, but Teal'c held his smug silence. With a sigh, Cam said, "Okay, I give up. Why is that to be expected?"

"Because she is the daughter of Dr. Rodney McKay."

Cam walked into an Airman.

Once he had disentangled himself and apologized profusely, Cam ran after Teal'c. "Oh, come on!" Cam exclaimed. "You can't just give that up and not tell me more! You're telling me that girl is Rodney McKay's kid?"

As he finished, they arrived in the board room, which was already populated with the rest of SG-1, generals, and a white-coat. At Cam's exclamation, General Landry looked over from his conversation with General O'Neill. "Colonel Mitchell, good, you're here. I see Teal'c has filled you in on the person in question?"

"Sir?"

Daniel carried the coffee pot to the table. "Rory Gilmore. Genius daughter of Rodney McKay," he said as he refilled his cup.

Cam looked at the gathered people, waiting for one of them to 'fess up to the joke. They all appeared deadly serious. "Um, sir?"

"Jack found her working in a Connecticut diner," Daniel added, and smiled.

Cam blinked a few times. While not the oddest thing he'd come across at the SGC, it certainly was up there.

Who'd have thought Rodney McKay would have had a kid?

"All right, everyone, sit down," General Landry ordered. The seats quickly filled. Cam sat at his usual place by the head of the table, missing the flash of blonde hair at his left. Sam Carter had gone onto bigger things, but he still missed her as part of SG-1. "All right, Ms. Gilmore has been here just over a week. I'll be blunt. Do we keep her or do we ship her off to Area 51?"

"She's hasn't done anything to warrant dissection, has she?" Vala exclaimed, looking up from her book. Cam frowned. Vala Mal Doran had an open book at a briefing, and hadn't said a word since he came into the room.

Had everyone gone insane?

Sighing mightily, Daniel patted Vala's book. "No one's going to dissect Rory."

"Oh." Mollified, Vala bent her head back over the pages and started scribbling.

As if there had been no interruption, General Landry continued. "What I mean is, she still hasn't signed the paperwork regarding her job offer, and I need that paperwork on my desk by the end of today. Is she making enough of a contribution here, or would she be better suited to R&D at Area 51?"

Cam had heard enough; or perhaps not enough. He put up his hand. "Sir? Could someone please tell me _what_ is going on?"

At the end of the table, General O'Neill spoke while he continued to fold a paper airplane. "When two teenagers find themselves hormonally and emotionally unbalanced, sometimes kids happen. When one of those teenagers happens to be Rodney McKay, you end up with a Rory Gilmore. Yay high," he indicated with his hand, missing the girl's true height by about a foot, "Needs a sandwich, smart enough to figure out the concept behind a ZPM while slinging hash."

"She was a waitress?"

Daniel shook his head. "Journalism major."

"A journalism major," Cam repeated. He was still waiting for the punch line, but he was starting to get a horrible impression that he was the punch line. "And now she's at the SGC, doing..."

"Science," General O'Neill said, using sarcastic finger quotes. He settled back into his chair, suddenly serious. "There's no indication that she's been influenced by any outside source, not Trust, not NID. And outside of a disturbing fetish for oversized Russian novels, nothing international."

"We don't have any evidence either that the Ancients had any role in accelerating her mental development," Dr. Lee continued. "She's been working with my team all week, sometimes wearing the Ancient's synaptic activity measurement device, and she's making mental leaps beyond anything we could come up with, and there's nothing mentally abnormal in any of the readings."

"How valuable are her contributions, Doctor?" General Landry asked.

Dr. Lee sat up, as enthusiastic as Cam had ever seen the man outside of a World of Warcraft conversation. "Having her here-- well, it's like having Rodney McKay here without..." he trailed off, uncertain.

"Without having Rodney McKay here," Vala supplied, never looking up. "I don't know why none of you will say it out loud. He's arrogant and obnoxious." She paused. "And sort of attractive, in that 'tie a gag over his mouth' sort of way."

While Cam shuddered through that mental image, Dr. Lee jumped back into the fray. "If what she's done over the last week is any indication of what she can do, while still learning a whole new way of looking at the universe... why, I think we'd be fools to send her to R&D in Nevada at this point."

General Landry nodded. "Dr. Jackson? What's your take?"

"She's..." Daniel adjusted his glasses in consideration. "I think she's aware of the limitations of her knowledge. If anything, she might be hesitant to put herself forward."

"A humble McKay," Cam mumbled under his breath. What was the world coming to?"

"She also appears interested in the stories of the SGC," Teal'c put in. "Last evening, she inquired as to the history of the Jaffa rebellion and the destruction of the Goa'uld."

"Occupying all of my dinner hour," Vala said. "Which was totally unfair."

"Vala?"

"General?"

"Vala, put the book down," General Landry ordered. "How many times have I told you, no Sudoku in the briefing room?"

With great reluctance, Vala closed the book and laid it on the table. "Yes?"

"What do you think of Ms. Gilmore?"

Vala shrugged. "She's always up for a bit of fun, unlike this crowd."

Cam wasn't at all reassured by that, knowing as he did what Vala considered 'fun.'

"I mean, she's not _normal_ , but it's a burden I've grown used to down here."

"You've been spending a lot of time with her," General Landry pressed. "What do you do?"

Vala's eyebrow arched, exuding innuendo for a long moment. "We watch movies or television. She tried to get me to read a very large book but I'm using it as a doorstop. Let's see." She snapped her fingers. "She's completely obsessed with pie."

"That's you," Daniel interjected.

"Oh, right." Vala gave General Landry a wide-eyed look. "What do you want me to say? We talk, we watch movies, she entertains me. If you're asking if she's after the secrets of the Goa'uld or the Ori, sorry. Wrong exit."

"Sounds like a paragon," Cam said.

"Oh, I never said that," Vala retorted. "She's quirky and obsessive and will trail off in the middle of a conversation as something occurs to her, and her attention span can be pathetic at times. Plus she's a stickler for names. She calls everyone by their rank."

"That's not a character flaw, Vala," Cam said. "That's manners."

Vala waved her hand. "She's too tightly wound and worried she'll mess up." Vala paused, considering. "I wonder what she'd be like drunk."

Sergeant Harriman appeared at the head of the stairs. He waited until the General gestured, then approached. "Sir, these were just delivered to your office."

General Landry took the papers and glanced at them. "Thank you." The sergeant vanished back down the stairs. "Well, it seems as if Ms. Gilmore has come to a decision." He laid the papers on the desk. "She signed the job offer."

Vala squealed, jumping out of her chair. "We get to keep her! Can I go?" she asked belatedly, hardly waiting for the General's wave before running off.

Cam slumped down in his chair, resigning himself to a crumpled shirt for the rest of the day. "Did I miss anything else while I was gone?" he asked.

"The Falcons kicked ass in the divisional game," General O'Neill said. He stood. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to go say goodbye before heading back to DC."

"Go, Jack. Thanks for your help on this, I owe you one," General Landry said.

"You owe me more than one." With a wave that might have been a salute, General O'Neill tramped down the stairs to the Control Room.

Cam stared at Daniel. "Has this seriously all happened in the week I was gone?"

"Week and a half," Daniel corrected. "You also missed it when Vala walked around backwards all day."

"Great."

General Landry gathered up the papers. "If that's all, then this meeting is over. SG-1, I want you back here at 1600 hours for the preliminary briefing on your next mission."

He stood, Cam stood, and the meeting broke up.

"Hey, Mitchell," Daniel called before Cam headed down the stairs. "Major Morris wanted to know if you were up for dinner at the steakhouse tonight? It might be a little crowded because it's St. Patrick's day, but if we go in right after the briefing..."

"Yeah, sure," Cam said, mind still whirling. He had forgotten that it was St. Paddy's day.

That would explain the green outfit the girl was wearing, although not her enthusiasm.

Everything always happened when he was off base.

* * *

Lorelai frowned down at her notes. The wedding party needed fifty seats, but the drawing she held only had space for forty seats. Grumbling at the inefficiency of her staff, Lorelai pulled out a pencil and started sketching.

Bob the doorman approached her table, quiet in the empty dining room. "Lorelai?"

She didn't look up. "Yes?"

"Michel wants to tell me you have a phone call."

Lorelai scratched out a line. "I'm busy. Go away."

"Right." Bob left.

And was back again in a minute. "Michel wants to know if you want Rory to leave a message or to call you back?"

Lorelai's pencil went flying. "Rory's on the phone?" she demanded, already moving. "Why didn't you say so?"

"Michel didn't tell me at first."

Lorelai rounded the corner and stormed towards the front desk. Michel held the phone to his ear, looking quite smug. "Oh, look, here she is now," he said sarcastically. "Surprise, surprise."

"Transfer the call to my office," Lorelai ordered. "I'll deal with you later, mister."

Unperturbed, Michel hit a button on his headset.

The phone was ringing when Lorelai skidded into her office. She grabbed the phone. "Rory?"

"Hi Mom," Rory said. The tinny line couldn't mask the happiness in her kid's voice. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, kid." Lorelai blinked away tears at hearing her daughter's voice. "Man, it's good to hear from you."

"Yeah, I'm sorry I only called once this week. I've been really busy."

"Doing what?" Lorelai eased into her chair, settling in for a long talk. Since that fateful day over a week ago when Rory proclaimed out of nowhere that she was leaving for Colorado, Lorelai hadn't known what to do with herself. She wanted Rory happy and busy, but she wanted her kid near, too. Maybe Rory was too old to mother like this, but damn it, Rory had been Lorelai's whole life for twenty-five years.

"Um... yeah. That's why I'm calling." Rory sighed. "Mom, you need to promise not to freak out."

Lorelai swallowed hard. "Really not the best way to start a conversation, kid."

"I know, but I'm fine. Totally, all the way." Rory took a deep breath. "I'm going to be staying in Colorado for a while. I've found something I'm happy with, something amazing I can be doing to help people, to do amazing things for humanity."

"Did you join a cult?"

"Mom! No, I didn't join a cult. I, um... I got a new job."

"With a cult?"

"No. With the U.S. Air Force."

Lorelai froze, hand halfway to the desk. "With the what?"

"The U.S. Air Force."

"You... oh god, you enlisted! You signed up! Being all that you can be!"

"I did not! And that's the motto for the Army, not the Air Force."

"Then what do you mean?"

"They have civilians working with them all the time!" Rory exclaimed. "I'm doing stuff to help them. Remember how we support the troops?"

"But that's different than working for the military!"

"Mom, oh my god! Listen to me! I'm doing good work with the potential of helping a lot of people!"

"You make it sound like a cult. Do you have to wear a uniform and shave your head?"

The sigh was audible over the phone line. "Mom, I'm pretty sure the U.S. Air Force is not a cult."

"Says you."

"Well, the cult's paying me nicely in any event. If I wire you some money, can you give it to Grandpa as payment for the loan he gave me last week?"

Lorelai winced. She hadn't even thought about how she was going to explain this her parents. "That's only going to annoy him."

"I don't care." _Stubbornness, thy name is Rory Gilmore_ , Lorelai thought. "I have some money now and I don't like having a loan like that hanging over my head, Miss 'Chilton Payback Disaster of 2003.'"

"Fine, fine. What am I going to tell them?"

"That I ran away and joined the circus."

"That wasn't funny when I tried it in the fifth grade."

"Then tell them that as a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, I wanted to give back to my country."

Lorelai frowned. "That's a little pointed."

"What do you want me to say? That it would be better for me to come back to Stars Hollow and serve burgers at Luke's forever? My life..." Rory was quiet for so long that Lorelai began to worry. "I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I've got stuff going on I need to figure out before I can figure out the rest of my life, and I think I can do that here."

"Okay. Sure, fine." Lorelai tried very hard not to be hurt, but the idea that her daughter had to leave her behind in order to figure that stuff out... well, it stung.

"Mom? Are we okay?"

"Of course we are," Lorelai said quickly. She forced a smile onto her face, even if Rory couldn't see it. "I miss you, that's all."

"I miss you too."

Lorelai closed her eyes. She would not cry. If this was good for Rory, Lorelai would be happy. "Do you have a phone number I can call you at yet?"

"Not yet. I've been on base since I got here. One of the guys down here had an apartment in town he never uses. He said I can stay there until I find a place."

"One of the guys," Lorelai repeated.

"Yes, he-- Mother!"

"What am I supposed to think? You run off halfway across the country and join the military spontaneously... Is he that guy Mrs. Kim saw you with?"

"I'm not Catherine Zeta Jones!" Rory exclaimed. "And this isn't like that at all! I didn't come to Colorado because Jack O'Neill!"

"But was there a guy?"

Rory huffed into the phone. "It's complicated."

"So share. I've got all the time in the world."

"But I don't. I have a meeting to get to. Mom, look, I'm not in Colorado because of some guy. I'm here because of all the other reasons I've already outlined."

Lorelai wanted to argue, to scream at Rory that no guy was worth joining up for, but from the tone of voice coming over the phone, Lorelai knew Rory wouldn't listen. "You'll let me know if you need me to come out there?"

"Of course I will," Rory said. "I love you, Mom."

Unbidden, the tears came back to Lorelai's eyes. "I love you too kid, so much."

"Take care of yourself, and tell everyone I say hi. And give Paul Anka a pat for me, okay?"

"Sure thing, kid. You call if you need anything. At all."

"Other than giving that money back to Grandpa, I'm good for now."

"I was hoping you'd forget about that."

"No chance. Bye, Mom."

"Bye, babe."

Lorelai held the receiver to her ear long after Rory hung up, listening to the dial tone that separated her from her daughter.

She didn't understand. Ever since Rory had returned to Stars Hollow after quitting her job, after she'd gotten stranger and stranger, sitting on that park bench all day with her laptop, Lorelai had been battling panic. Something had happened to Rory around the time that Chris had told them he had leukemia. Maybe it was thinking about her own mortality.

Or maybe it was something deeper, something that Rory couldn't share with Lorelai.

That thought alone sent chills through Lorelai.

She shook off the panic. Rory sounded good, if a little snarky on the phone, and that was close enough to normal. She had a job and a place to stay, and could take care of herself. For now, Lorelai would have to accept that, no matter how much it rankled.

It was only after Lorelai stormed into the kitchen to commiserate with Sookie that she realized Rory hadn't said a single thing about exactly what sort of work she was doing for the military.


	8. Studies in New Paris

Atlantis hummed merrily in John Shepperd's head as he strolled the halls of the city. The latest databurst from the SGC had arrived an hour ago, and everyone in the expedition was bent over their personal workstations, reading or replying to the news from home.

It had been Elizabeth's idea, set in place back when the Daedalus brought news from home. Every expedition member had two hours to pour over their personal mail, to laugh or cry, to celebrate the good time or mourn the bad of the family and friends left behind. Then it was back to work in the Pegasus Galaxy.

After Elizabeth... well, after Sam Carter was put in charge of the expedition, John had given the Colonel a bit of a nudge ( _more of a sharp push_ , the walls of Atlantis reminded him) to keep up the tradition, but she had come to see the value in the break from work time. 

So here John was, an hour after the databurst came in and its contents distributed, everyone in the city had their minds in the Milky Way galaxy. It would have been the perfect time for an enemy to attack the city. With a small frown, John made a mental note to point that out to Carter the next time he happened in her direction.

"Sheppard."

John hit his earpiece. "What's up, Ronon?"

"Want to spar?" the man asked, sounding incredibly bored. "Everyone else is busy."

John's ribs still hurt from his last sparing session with Ronon. "Sorry, I've got this thing to do," he said. "Why not go bother Teyla for a little while?"

"Because all she wants to do is throw me into things and it's no fun when I can't fight back."

"That's what you get when you spar with a pregnant woman."

"I think she's actually getting stronger," Ronon said. "Look, I'm going to go for a run. Come find me if you get done your 'thing'."

"Right." John signed off and continued down the hall.

Ronon was bored, Teyla was probably climbing the walls from inactivity, and John... well, John never had anything come from home in the databursts, and that was just the way things were.

The last quarter of John's team was holed up in his laboratory. McKay didn't even glance up from his computer screen as John breezed in and helped himself to some of the scientists' carefully hoarded coffee. 

Sipping at the dark liquid, John meandered across the lab to stand beside McKay's chair and look over the man's shoulder. Far from the family letter John expected to see, mathematical equations and multi-syllabic words danced across the screen. Still, it might have been from Rodney's sister. John bent closer to read the lines.

"This is _completely_ insane," McKay said incredulously as he paged down. "She's certifiable!"

"Who's certifiable?" John asked. He was gratified to see McKay jump in his seat.

"God!" McKay gasped. "Don't do that!"

"But it's fun," John said after another swallow. "Letter from Jeannie? Is Madison the newest family math genius?"

McKay slapped his tablet onto the desk. "The SGC has gone insane! I get an email two weeks ago from Bill Lee, saying they've brought in someone new, some kid genius, and what do I get today?" He gesticulated at tablet.

"Our very own Doogie Howser?" John guessed.

"Hardly! At least Doogie Howser had some kind of formal training!" McKay pulled a granola bar out of his pocket and unwrapped it as he ranted. "This kid doesn't have a degree in anything remotely relevant! You know what she has?"

Deciding that McKay didn't actually need another person in the conversation, John slumped against a table and watched the show. 

"A bachelor's degree in _Journalism_! I'm surprised they didn't just let her send in a math proof in finger-paints!"

"Sort of like your sister did," John interjected. 

McKay glared at him. "Jeannie at least has a master's degree in theoretical physics! This kid has nothing to back her up!"

"Except the numbers."

"The math is impossible! It throws out of the conventional rules--"

"Which you break on a regular basis anyway."

"--and totally sidesteps everything necessary to make logical sense!"

"But does it work?"

"That's not the point!"

John pushed himself off the table and went back to the coffee pot. "If the SGC brought this kid on, they had to have some kind of confidence in her knowledge. What's her name, anyway?"

McKay shoved the last of his granola bar into his mouth, speaking around the crumbs. "Don't talk to me about the SGC. You know what else they've done? This kid doesn't even have proper security clearance! She has temporary secret clearance! Not permanent, temporary! As in not real!"

"I know what the word 'temporary' means, McKay."

"Not even a temporary top secret! A flying hatbox could get a temporary secret! She's writing about stuff that she's not allowed to see! Hell, she doesn't have the clearance to be within a twenty-five kilometre radius of this sort of research!"

"But do the numbers work?"

"That's not the--"

John raised his cup threateningly. "If you say it's not the point, one more time, I'm going to take away your power bars."

In the face of such a dire ultimatum, McKay reigned himself in. "No one can just pull these ideas of zero-point energy out of nowhere," he said. "It's-- It's farcical, that's what it is, to imagine that a twenty-four-year-old journalism major from Connecticut can just show up at the SGC one day and say 'Oh, hi there, I'd like to work on zero-point energy, do you have any of that here?'!"

"McKay--"

"I know, I know!" McKay threw up his hands, nearly knocking some equipment off a desk. "The numbers! I'll look, and _then_ I'm going to show those air-headed, needle-nosed pinheads on Earth who they're dealing with!"

"Needle-nosed?"

McKay was already pushing John out of the lab. "Go away, I have work to do. Out!"

John barely had time to swallow the last of his coffee before he was deposited wholesale in the hallway, the lab door closing behind him. "I've still got your cup," he said to the closed door. Nothing. He set the cup by the wall, in hopes its owner would retrieve it at some point. 

At least McKay had something to keep him busy for the next little while, although John felt a stab of pity for the poor unnamed journalism major at the SGC. Whenever McKay was in this sort of mood, he was more vicious than usual in his rhetoric. 

Although... Something that McKay had said stuck in John's mind. What was it? Some snippet of the conversation, unnoticed at the time, had to have meant something. But what was it?

Oh well. One day, he'd figure it out. If it was important, McKay would mention it again.

Half an hour until work would resume in the city. John probably had enough time to head down to the commissary and grab some more stale coffee before the demands of the city pulled him back. 

All around him, Atlantis buzzed with contented efficiency.

* * *

Rory was vaguely glad that she managed to make to the deserted bathroom before throwing up. 

Was it a panic attack or a heart attack that made her heart race irregularly in her chest? She couldn't remember, but the practicality of the issue didn't matter as she retched into the toilet.

Rodney McKay's words in the email, slashing and belittling, danced in front of her closed eyelids. 

How could she ever have imagined that coming to this place was a good idea?

Her stomach emptied, Rory wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet before sinking against the concrete wall. She felt horrible, empty. It wasn't supposed to have gone like this. Rodney McKay wasn't supposed to have been so... so _mean._

How could she tell him that he was her father now?

The bathroom door opened. Rory heard someone walk across the floor, stopping on the other side of the stall door. Any hope that it was just someone needing to freshen up vanished when Vala asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm really not." Rory pulled her legs up to her chest and wished she could just disappear, could undo her decision to stay at the SGC. What was she doing here, anyway? 

"Are you going to stay in there all day?"

"Thinking about it."

"If you want." Vala fell silent, and that was even worse, because now all Rory could hear was the swirling chaos in her head. 

It wasn't supposed to _be_ like this.

Once Rory had her stomach under control, she climbed awkwardly to her feet and opened the stall door. Vala perched by the sinks, uncharacteristically still. 

"You don't have to stay," Rory said. She turned on the tap, letting the familiar sound of flowing water push back the echoes of Mitchem Huntzberger's voice saying _you don't have what it takes_.

"I went past the lab," Vala said, somber. "Dr. Lee was copied on the email that your father sent you."

Rory winced. "Don't call him that."

"Ah," Vala breathed. "I take this means you didn't include a little note in the last databurst about the DNA test. You know. 'Hi, I'm your daughter, here's some science'."

The water flowed over Rory's fingers, liquid catching on the imperfections in her skin. 

"Dr. Lee said that the email wasn't very nice," Vala soldiered on. "That McKay went a little overboard."

Rory cupped her hands under the water. Once she had rinsed out her mouth, she took a long drink, then another, of the water. The faint metallic taste from the pipes clung to her tongue. "He cut down everything I wrote," Rory heard herself say. "Everything. Even the grammar."

The white ceramic of the sink gathered the sound and echoed it back. _Everything._

How could she have imagined this could work?

Vala waited until Rory turned off the taps before saying, "And was he right?"

Rory jerked back, swirling thoughts ripped away. "What?"

"Was McKay right in what he wrote?" Vala asked again. 

"I-- I don't..." Rory wrapped her arms around her stomach, wanting to curl up and disappear. 

"Because if he's right, then you can pack your bags and go home," Vala said. Her words sliced at Rory. "I mean, that's pretty much what McKay suggested, right?"

Rory couldn't find the air to speak.

Vala slipped off the counter and walked the few steps across the bathroom to put her arm around Rory's shoulders. "But on the other hand, if you're right, if the science that you and all the other smart people have been working on non-stop for the last three weeks is right, then you can do something that most of us around here only dream about." She angled Rory in front of the mirror. "You get to tell Dr. Rodney McKay that he is wrong."

Rory stared at her reflection in the mirror. She could only see the similarities to Rodney McKay in her reflection. She wondered where Lorelai was in her, where _she_ was. Who was she, anymore?

"Isn't that why everyone's breaking the rules for you?" Vala asked.

"They're not breaking rules," Rory told Vala. She eased out from under the woman's arm and went back to the sink.

"They're fast-tracking you on everything," Vala pointed out. "Daniel told Mitchell who told Teal'c who told me that it's a good thing you're so smart on paper, so O'Neill can bend the rules for you."

"It's not like that," Rory objected. "I mean, I know that he's pushing for my security clearance to be upgraded to permanent secret while he gets things in order for the TS-SCI--"

"Most people don't have a general pushing for that. And Teal'c told Mitchell who told Caroline who told Daniel that you wouldn't have qualified to be hired on as a consultant without a solicitation if you weren't so lethally smart."

"But--"

"And what about that thing where they're going to make you a doctor?" Vala wrestled a pack of chewing gum out of her pocket. "Again, smart."

"But that's..." Rory accepted a stick of gum absently. "What he wrote..."

"Rory. Was he right?"

"I'd have to go over the numbers again--"

"You've spent weeks of sixteen-hour days on those numbers. You don't need to see them again. Was McKay right?"

Rory wanted to look at the numbers, wanted to cling to proof and reason, to hide behind something tangible. 

She didn't want to have to stand on her own in this.

But she knew the numbers. She knew she was right.

"No, he wasn't," Rory finally said.

Vala smiled. "See, that wasn't hard, was it?" 

Rory's knees were still shaking from that admission, but contradicting Vala was always more trouble that it was worth in the end. "I guess not."

Vala stuck two piece of gum in her mouth. "Now, you need to get back to that lab and tell Dr. Lee that you're perfectly all right. He worries, you know."

Remembered humiliation brought heat to Rory's cheeks, but her spine remained straight. "God, I'm behaving like a child," she muttered. 

"I've heard stories of Rodney McKay reducing whole teams of grown men to tears," Vala said. "So don't feel bad."

"But--" _But he's my father,_ Rory wanted to say. But he didn't know that, and now she didn't know how she was going to tell him. 

Vala blew a large pink bubble and waited. 

Rory stared at her reflection in the mirror. Ice-blue eyes stared back at her. Her mother's eyes, her father's eyes. Her eyes, pale as water frozen in glacial ice.

_Water flowing over fingers, liquid catching on the imperfections in skin._

She was not her mother and she was not her father, and Rodney McKay was not Mitchem Hunzberger and he was not Christopher Hayden and he was not Luke Danes, he was himself and he did not know her, and she did not know him.

 _Water frozen in blue glacial ice_.

Crystals of understanding began to form at the edges of Rory's consciousness, but she concentrated on the reflection in the mirror. 

Rodney McKay thought that she was wrong, that she wasn't good enough to work at the SGC on this project. She had dealt with that sort of opinion before, in high school, in college. On her first day of Chilton in grade ten, Paris Gellar had thrown down the gauntlet in competition, and that was just the beginning.

"Rodney McKay is the new Paris," Rory said suddenly. 

"He's turning into a city?" Vala asked, eyebrow up.

"No, he's the new Paris Gellar," Rory said. "She was my yardstick in high school. We ended up doing everything together and it helped, having someone to compete against."

"Who usually ended up on top?"

"I did," Rory said without much relish. "Everything she did, I worked to do better. So this thing with Rodney, it's the same. I'll see what he does and I-- I'll do it better." 

Vala snapped her gum. "You do know that this level of competition is unhealthy."

Rory waved Vala's words away. "I'm not going out for Homecoming Queen, this isn't up for the popular vote. I just need to put on my big girl panties and deal with this." Rory heard Lorelai's voice in her words. _That's where she is, where she always is._

"Good!" Vala slid off the counter. "So you're not going to slink off home?"

Ice was forming in Rory's mind, blue crystals formed from flowing liquid, particles rushing in the same direction all at once. "Why would I go home?" Rory turned on the tap to rinse her face. "I have to talk to Dr. Lee, we might be able to improve the numbers on the particle flow."

"That's my girl," Vala beamed. "Are we still on for going out for dinner?"

"I don't know if I'll have time," Rory said, halfway out the door. "This may open up a whole different area of research--"

"You're taking me out to dinner with that shiny signing bonus of yours, just like you promised," Vala interrupted. "Be ready at twenty-hundred hours. And wear something slinky!"

Rory vaguely registered several heads turning in the hallway at Vala's shout, but she ignored them. She had to get to the lab.

Ice smoothed over her mind by the time she made it back into the lab. She jerked her access card off her jacket and jammed it into her terminal, pulling up her email.

"Gilmore?" Dr. Lee asked. "Are you... I mean..."

"I'm fine," Rory said, not even looking up from her computer. 

"Do you want to go over the equations in the paper, compare them against McKay's email?"

Rory shook her head. "He's wrong, I can prove that, we'll deal with it later. I have an idea about the particle flow problem we've been having."

"You do?"

"I do." Rory paused in her frantic typing long enough to snake an arm to retrieve her coffee cup. "We need Dr. Freyd for this, where is he?"

"Signing the paperwork to be your outside committee member on the long-term training program." Dr. Lee pulled a chair next to Rory's work station. "Are you _sure_ you're going to be okay? McKay's email..."

Rory took a deep breath. "He had points to make and he made them. Everyone's been telling me that he has the social skills of a wombat."

"That's certainly true," Dr. Lee muttered. 

"And I think that I have an idea that will help us simplify the clutter in the equations we sent." Rory paused in her typing. "I mean, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine," he said, just as the phone on the wall rang. "Hold that thought."

While the man went to answer the line, Rory tapped on the keyboard without really paying attention to what she was doing. 

Vala was right. Rory was at the SGC for a reason. She could _do_ this. 

And maybe once she had proven that to Rodney McKay beyond a shadow of a doubt, then maybe she could tell him about what had really happened in Hartford, all those many years before.

She could tell him that she and he were as much the same as they were different.

Although she still didn't know how she was going to tell her mother.


	9. Secret Keeper

Rory pressed her cell phone to her ear, listening to the ringing at the other end of the line. One ring. Three rings. Five rings. Voicemail.

"Hey, this is Lorelai-- Down, Paul Anka! Off the Hello Kitty lamp! Leave a message!"

 _Beep_.

"Hi Mom, it's Rory. I wanted to... well, I was wondering if--"

The phone chimed in her ear. Rory pulled it away from her head long enough to see that another call was coming in, from...

"And now you're calling me back," Rory spoke quickly into the phone before hitting the button to transfer her to the incoming call. "Mom?"

"Rory! Sorry I missed your call but the phone was in my bag and there was this horrible coffee cup incident and anyway. How are you?"

"I'm good, Mom. I'm great." Rory took a deep breath. "I know it's Friday night and you're probably on your way to Grandma and Grandpa's..."

"I'm just pulling into the driveway. But let me turn off the engine and we can talk. I'll be late for drinks, but for you, sobriety is a sacrifice I'm willing to live with."

The reflection of the jeep bounced and flashed in the rearview mirror of Rory's rental car. Biting back a nervous smile, Rory said, "How about you turn off the car and I'll do you one better?"

"What are you talking about?"

Rory opened her car door and stepped out onto the paving stone driveway. "How about we talk in person?" she suggested.

Lorelai's squeal was deafening. Rory was halfway across the courtyard when Lorelai tripped out of the Jeep and bolted toward her.

"You're here!" Lorelai exclaimed, hugging Rory so tightly her ribs protested.

"Too tight bear-hug, Mom!" Rory gasped, an echo of her childhood trickling back to her in this place. "I missed you!"

"I missed you more!" Lorelai pressed a kiss onto Rory's hair before pulling back. "You've even grown a little!"

"It's the shoes," Rory said, pushing her hair back into a semblance of order. Lorelai was the same as always, new hairstyle and that Mom grin, and a totally inappropriate t-shirt not quite hidden under her unzipped jacket. "You trying to give Grandma a heart attack?"

"What?"

Rory indicated the shirt. "Morning Wood Lumber Company?"

Lorelai just grinned. "She won't get it, and if she does, two hundred years of repressed inbreeding will keep her from saying anything." Lorelai took Rory's arm and pulled her towards the house. "Come on, I've got some drinking to do while you tell me what's up and why you're here and how long you're staying and what you've been doing for the Air Force."

"That's an awful lot to talk about over drinks."

"Luckily my liver can take it." Lorelai giggled suddenly. "You should have seen Luke's face when I wore this shirt into the diner this morning. Lane took pictures."

Rory let herself be carried along in the torrent of words, to be washed up against the front door with Lorelai ringing the bell. The sound reverberated in her head, so unlike the klaxons she'd heard just a few days before at Stargate Command.

She had a moment of vertigo, worlds spinning together in a cacophony of stars, then the door opened and a smartly dressed maid admitted the Lorelais to the house.

Even though she had only been gone a short time, Rory was dimly surprised that the house had not changed. She handed over her coat, keeping her purse slung over her shoulder. Her new blackberry rested at the bottom of the small bag, along with her identification and airplane ticket and the keys to her borrowed apartment. Her new life, narrowed down to small bits of technology and plastic, and all of it saying nothing about who she had become.

Lorelai stopped her before they entered the sitting room, winking as she made Rory stand back from the entrance. Only then did Lorelai step into the open doorway. "Hi Mom, hi Dad," she burbled.

"Lorelai, we were beginning to think you weren't coming," Emily's disapproving voice drifted on the air. "You are old enough now to call when you are going to be late for an engagement, honestly. Richard, tell her."

"I'm sure Lorelai knows how old she is, Emily."

"I know, but I've got something to make up for it," Lorelai said, on the edge of breaking out into laughter. "A limited time offer, get it while you can, your very own Rory Gilmore!"

Rory stepped into the entranceway beside her mother, smiling nervously as her mother applauded wildly. "Um, hi."

Emily was surprised and Richard was shocked, but in an instant Emily was on her feet. "Rory!" she exclaimed. "We had no idea-- Lorelai, why didn't you tell us?"

"She only found out a few minutes ago, that I was here, I mean," Rory stammered. She accepted her grandmother's brief hug. "I didn't know if I'd get here in time so I didn't want to break any plans."

"But she's here now," Lorelai said, hugging Rory again. "So it's okay that I'm late."

"Not really," Emily said in an undertone that Lorelai pretended to ignore.

Behind Emily, Richard had laid aside his paper and stood. "Rory, it's good to see you," he said, voice full of things he would never say. "So very good."

"It's good to be here," Rory said. A lump formed in her throat and breathing became difficult for a few moments. Instead of words, she stepped around the coffee table and hugged him, yet another familiar thing that was oddly different than she remembered it.

"Well, I'll go tell Sandra to set another place for dinner," Emily said briskly. "If you're staying for dinner."

Rory's throat constricted. "Yes, if it's not too much trouble," she said, responding in kind to her grandmother's tone.

"It's not too much trouble," Lorelai interjected. "Right, Mom?"

Emily hesitated for an exquisitely expressive moment. "Of course not. Excuse me."

The memory of klaxons from the emergency lock-down skittered across Rory's mind, drawing her over to the couch. She sat in her customary spot, legs crossed at the knee, demure under her black skirt, as a proper granddaughter would sit in Emily Gilmore's house.

"Can I get either of you lovely ladies a drink?" Richard asked.

"A martini, Dad," Lorelai replied, yanking off her jacket and flopping onto the couch beside Rory.

"I'll have soda water," Rory said.

Richard eyed Lorelai's shirt with unvoiced disapproval. "Drinks, coming right up."

Emily returned as Richard was handing out the drinks. "Dinner is settled," she said.

Lorelai's shoulders went back, ready for battle. "Good to know that your granddaughter showing up for dinner isn't going to ruin your night."

"Lorelai--"

 _Klaxons, heralding the end of the world_. "Stop!" Rory exclaimed, setting her drink down on the coffee table with a clatter. "I'm only going to be here for a few hours, so stop arguing!" She wiped her fingers on her shirtsleeve, trying to concentrate on the moment and not let her mind slip back to the work on zero-point energy that had consumed her life for the last seven weeks.

 _Work shatters to obsession, and nothing will put the pieces back together again_.

"Grandma, I'm sorry I didn't call ahead. Mom, I can take care of myself." Rory folded her shaking hands on her lap, the proper submissive girl she thought she'd left behind, in a past without Rodney McKay and Stargates and the potential to hold the power of a trillion stars in the palms of her cupped hands.

The room was silent. Were Gilmores without words truly Gilmores?

Rory took a deep breath, mindful of why she was there. "I would like to say that I am here for a visit alone, but there is something I need to ask of Grandma and Grandpa. A favor."

The sharp exhalation of breath came from Emily's direction. Rory couldn't keep her gaze from dancing over the sparkle of candles on the mantle.

"And it will make more sense if you know what I've been doing in Colorado."

Richard cleared his throat. "Lorelai tells us that you are working with the Air Force."

"I am." Rory reached for her drink again. "But it's a little more complicated than that."

"You didn't join up, did you?" Lorelai interrupted.

"No, I'm not. I'm working as a researcher at the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base. I'm still a civilian, though." Rory forced out a smile. "And I'm part of their long-term training program, so I'll be working towards a doctoral degree while I'm there."

"Wait, what?" Lorelai sat forward. "You're working on your PhD?"

"Yes." Rory rested her glass against her knee to stop her shaking hands. She could do this. She shouldn't be afraid of disappointing her mother. "I'll be taking a few classes at the University of Colorado in Colorado Springs in the summer, and then a full slate in the fall semester. Then three more years working with the Air Force and there you go. Dr. Gilmore. Well, there's more to it than that but that's not really relevant."

Lorelai was openly gaping at Rory. "Isn't this a little sudden?"

"Lorelai," Emily warned. "Rory, dear, that's wonderful news. We're so proud of you."

"Indeed we are," Richard said, practically beaming. "I'll get some champagne so we can celebrate."

"I mean, one day you're serving burgers at Luke's, then the next you're moving to Colorado to go back to school? In what, journalism? You haven't written anything in months."

"Lorelai, enough!" Emily's voice was sharp, but Rory knew that tone wouldn't work on Lorelai. It never had.

"I'm not getting my degree in Journalism," Rory spoke over Emily.

"Then what? Political science? History? What?"

_"It's the end of the world as we know it," Dr. Freyd (Dr. Freyd was my mother, Rory. We're going to be working together for years, so call me Francis) had sung as the lab quickly shut down their computers, pagers, phones, everything in advance of the impending EMP two floors down, then the klaxon drowned out the lyrics and the panicked breathing and everything gone except the blast of sound._

"Theoretical high energy physics," Rory said.

Lorelai stared for a moment, then downed the remainder of her martini. "What the hell is that?"

"It's..." Rory fought down the rising panic. This wasn't going the way she had envisioned, not at all. "It's a field of physics, Mom, a very important field. It's the study of how everything-- well, the study of everything."

_"Here we go!" Bill Lee shouted, turning off the lights just as the klaxons went silent. The EMP wasn't like in the movies, no crackling light or nifty sound effects, but the hair rose on the back of Rory's neck for a moment and she stopped breathing._

_Stop._

_"I think that's it," Bill said cautiously. "No one move until they turn the main power back on, though."_

_A cough, and Rory closed her eyes and thought of light and crystals and not of the panic rising in her throat, of being so far underground in the dark._

Lorelai's stunned silence lasted too long. "What about journalism?" she finally demanded. "You spent your whole life wanting to be a writer!"

"Not my whole life--"

"You were three years old! You couldn't even read yet and you told me that one day you were going to write books like I read to you! That's pretty much your whole damned life!"

"Mom..."

"All that we went through, with Chilton and Yale and everything and you're just throwing that away?"

_Stories below them, at the very bottom of the base, the naked Stargate sat amid the silent klaxons, iris broken, drawing power and no one knew how to stop it. Below them, soldiers stood, guns raised, waiting for something to cross the event horizon and knowing that if someone pushed a missile or a bomb through the Gate, they would all die, and yet they stood there._

_Stories below them, soldiers stood there, knowing they might die, but on guard until the last. It was what they did, what they were, actions defining them._

_Rory held her breath and thought of light and death, and wondered how anyone could keep from screaming in this mad, mad world._

"I'm not throwing anything away."

"You are--"

"I'm not!" Rory was on her feet, glass slammed down on the table and she didn't know how she got there. Why she was there at all. "My life's not what we planned it would be, but when does anything work according to plan? This is where I am now--"

"And how did you get there?" Lorelai shot to her feet, squaring off against her daughter and everything about this was making Rory sick to her stomach. She didn't know if she could handle being on the receiving end of her mother's sharp tongue, especially when Lorelai didn't _understand_. "Rory, you're a writer, one of the best, and you're throwing it away for a subject you didn't even take in college?"

Rory could have backed away from the fight, but that would have meant denying what she had become, who she was. She stepped back, spine straight. "I may be a good writer, Mom, but I'm a _great_ physicist. The Air Force does not hire people as a gesture of pity, or based on potential! I proved myself to them, I keep on proving myself every day I'm at work, every single time I do anything!"

Lorelai refused to back down. Arms crossed over her chest, she demanded, "And what exactly are you doing?"

_The dark went on, the unnatural stillness, the shallow breathing hidden in corners. Stories below, their fate was being decided, and Rory hadn't believed them until now when they had said that half the secret to surviving the SGC was pure, unadulterated luck._

_Even the thoughts of light and crystals dimmed as the black pressed in on her, miles underground. If the base was destroyed, if they all died, no one at home would ever know._

_Rory didn't want to die, and there was nothing she could do to save herself. Her life was in the hands of others, dozens of soldiers with guns raised, waiting for something to cross the event horizon, and she didn't even know their names._

_It wasn't right, not to know the names of those who held guns between her and nameless dangers._

"I can't talk about my work," Rory said, words like ice crystals falling to earth.

"What?"

It was the wrong way to explain, but Rory couldn't take back the words. "The projects I'm working on are classified."

"What kind of stuff could you be working on that's classified?"

"Also classified."

"Stop saying that!"

"Lorelai, Rory!" Emily interjected. "Enough! This is a reunion dinner and there will be no raised voices in this house!"

"Since when can't we yell in this house?" Lorelai demanded.

"Don't you raise your voice at me, young lady!"

Rory turned on her heel and stalked out of the living room. The door to the backyard opened easily under her fingers, releasing her into the soft May evening.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to have gone. And if Lorelai was this upset over a change in academic direction, Rory didn't know how she was going to explain about Rodney McKay.

_Flashlights bounced in the dark of the hallway, male voices raised in crisp tones._

" _Is there a problem?" Francis whispered. Bill murmured something under his breath, but another voice in the room hushed them._

_Rory wondered if this was what prayer was, hoping so hard in the deafening dark for a glimmer of hope that today would not be the day of one's death._

_The call came again, then again. "What are they saying?" Francis insisted._

_And again, but this time it was audible. "Clear!"_

_Rory dug her fingers into her pant leg, not daring to breathe._

_"Clear!" the voice came again. Lights bounced into the lab, casting the man in the doorway into silhouette. "Dr. Lee? We're all clear. Main power will go back on in a few minutes. Any problems?"_

_"None," Bill said, voice higher than normal. "Is the Gate off?"_

_"Yes sir. Two minutes ago. No casualties and only a few injuries."_

_"One minute to main power restoration!" another voice called, and the doorway cleared._

_Rory let the air out of her lungs slowly, wishing she could reach out and touch the dancing spots of light in her field of vision. "We're going to be-- I mean, everything's fine."_

_"Yeah," Bill said. "Five bucks says it was SG1."_

_"You're on," Francis retorted. "It always used to be them, but since Carter went to Atlantis, SG6 has been pulling ahead."_

_It seemed wrong to joke about things of this matter, so soon after all the danger and the darkness, but Rory held her tongue._

_She couldn't speak when she hadn't done a single thing to help._

Rory stared out at the darkened pool house and wondered about the path that had brought her to Stargate Command. She'd had to revisit the past so much in the past few weeks, with the paperwork for her background check and related security clearance.

So much had happened since Rory learned about her real father that her old life seemed far away. As if it had all happened to another girl.

"Hey," Lorelai said in greeting as she came up beside Rory. "So, what happened in there kind of sucked."

Rory remained silent.

"Can I get a do-over?"

"If you want," Rory murmured. Her head ached. Who was she supposed to be in this place? The dutiful granddaughter? Lorelai's feisty daughter? A McKay? Or the woman who had spent the last seven weeks working on physics beyond anything the world knew?

"Good." Lorelai stepped into Rory's line of sight, cutting off the view of the pool house. The worried expression on her face didn't quite fade as she smiled. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Mom." Rory let Lorelai pull her into a hug.

"It's just that we always tell each other everything," Lorelai said. "I got used to it."

"We can still talk about stuff, just not what I'm working on." Rory pulled away. She had thought that coming home would help her cope with what she had seen in the last week, but instead it was just making everything worse.

_Hours later, while Francis and Bill still argued about how to reboot the server and Rory sat curled up in the corner, Teal'c came to them. Bloodstained white bandages ran up his arm, a startling contrast against his dark skin._

_Bill was the one to speak. "Teal'c? What happened? Lt. Hutchinson said no one was killed--"_

_"And that was indeed so," Teal'c said. His voice, deep and certain, a rock standing in the flow of humanity, held no hint of his injury. "My injuries are superficial." His eyes moved across the room to where Rory huddled against the cabinet. "Vala has asked for your presence in the infirmary."_

_Only a few injuries, the lieutenant had said. No casualties. Rory held onto those words as they threatened to slip into the dark. "What happened to Vala?"_

_Teal'c's glance never wavered. "As the wormhole started to collapse, several projectiles came through the Gate. Vala pushed Sgt. Siler to safety, but one of the projectiles entered her shoulder. It has been removed and she will make a full recovery. Now she is awake and asking for you."_

_The concrete floor was curiously soft under Rory's feet as she stood. The world wasn't supposed to be like this. Friends weren't supposed to throw themselves into danger and almost die saving others. It was supposed to be about the numbers and making things pretty on paper, not the scraps of blood and metal that danced in Rory's mind._

_"We'll be okay here," Bill said. "We'll have the server up by tomorrow so we can get a few days of work in before you have to go to Connecticut."_

_"Thank you," Rory said automatically, manners with her until the end. Teal'c waited until she was in the doorway before stepping to her side._

_Around them, the SGC looked the same as it always did; florescent lights glaring coldly off the concrete walls and pipes, people scurrying to and fro. Even the people moved the same as always, as if death had not come tiptoeing up to their door on little cat feet._

_"Is she really okay?"_

_"Indeed," Teal'c replied. "Her actions on this day saved many lives."_

_"I thought you said she was shot."_

_"The projectile was aimed directly at the naquadah reactor used to power the EMP generator," Teal'c said. "Dr. Lam has confirmed that the projectile was made of a material that, had it impacted the reactor, would have caused catastrophic overload."_

_"Oh," Rory said. Something was happening, her mind was shutting down, refusing to focus on details. Teal'c's words were supposed to mean something, but all she could focus on was that Vala had been hurt. "That's bad, right?"_

_"It would have destroyed this base and quite possibly the Stargate."_

_Darkness pressing against her, even in the bright light. Rory clenched her hands into fists to keep from screaming. Even she knew that if the Stargate was caught up in the naquadah explosion, most of the state of Colorado would have been wiped off the map._

_"We are almost there," Teal'c continued._

_"Right," Rory said. She took a deep breath to chase back the screaming. She hadn't done anything that day except hide in the dark, while Vala had saved them all._

"When did you get into physics?" Lorelai asked, following Rory around the pool. "It's just a strange thing, you know? You never were that into physics in high school."

Rory stared into the lit pool, water sparkling blue, a reminder of the event horizon on the Stargate, and she wanted to go back. To the SGC, to her work, to her new friends to whom almost dying to save the world was normal.

"I scored 800 in math on the SAT," Rory said suddenly.

Lorelai stopped moving. "What? When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because the verbal score was all that mattered to me then." Rory pulled her purse around to her side so she could have something to do with her hand. "And the math wasn't going to help me find what I wanted then."

Lorelai's expression was inscrutable. "When you went to college?" Rory nodded. "What did you want?"

"Answers." Rory shook her head, hair falling in her eyes. "But there aren't any answers in words, because there is no common language in words. Everyone thinks differently, sees the world differently, that's human nature and it's messy and there is no way to find an answer in that."

"Is that why you quit your job back in December?"

How had Rory forgotten that under the quips and airy facade, her mother was so scarily perceptive on human nature? "Part of the reason," she admitted. "I... I think I was waiting for something. The other shoe to drop on my life."

"And did it?"

The memory of Christopher Hayden telling Rory that he was not her father hit like a blow to the chest. "Yes."

"Was it that thing with Chris?"

Rory's head jerked up. Did Lorelai-- could she know? _How_ could she know?

More importantly, how could she not know? How could Lorelai look at Rory and not see Rodney McKay? Every time Rory looked in the mirror, she saw her father's face staring back at her. Hadn't her mother ever wondered at Rory's early birth, at her intelligence, at all the little things that added up to raising the wrong man's child?

"It's scary when your dad almost dies," Lorelai confessed. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I mean, when Dad had his heart attacks... But Chris is okay now, the transplant took and he's home from chemo and he's got GiGi to keep him company."

Rory's heart pounded. Lorelai was only talking about Chris's leukemia. Not about Rory's mistaken paternity.

How could Lorelai not know?

_Vala lay on her side, bandaged shoulder up in the air. Her uninjured hand waved patterns in the air as her eyes vainly tried to focus._

_"What's wrong with her?" Rory asked Dr. Lam in a whisper. She'd never seen Vala act this way before._

_"She's drugged up," the doctor said bluntly. "The bullet is a material that reacts badly with our anesthesia, so we couldn't put her under for the operation. The drugs will wear off in a little while and we can put her back onto morphine."_

_Rory nodded as the doctor hurried off. She pulled up a chair next to Vala's bed and sat down. "Hi, Vala."_

_It took a moment for Vala's eyes to focus. "I know you," she said, pointing her finger at Rory accusingly. "Do I know you?"_

_"It's Rory. Teal'c said you wanted to see me."_

_"Rory..." Vala mused. "You're not a Rory. You should go by that other name."_

_"What other name?"_

_"Lorelai." Vala slurred the vowels together, drawing out the name in a way that sent shivers down Rory's spine. "I like it better."_

_"It's my mom's name."_

_"I want to meet your mother," Vala said. "Pack me in your handbag and take me to Connecticut."_

_"I don't think they make purses that big." Rory caught Vala's waving hand. The woman's skin was clammy. "How do you feel? Do you need the doctor?"_

_"I feel fine." Vala blinked at Rory for a minute. "You're going to be a doctor."_

_"Not that kind of doctor."_

_"You'll be a great doctor. All of everyone says that, even the airman." She chuckled. "We should get some sailors down here, so instead of airmen we'd have seamen."_

_Rory couldn't help smiling. "And you'd get to say 'Hey Sailor' a lot. That's one that gets you noticed."_

_"Hey, sailor." Vala closed her eyes. "Why am I here?"_

_"You were shot. Saving the world." The words should have sounded ridiculous, but they were just... normal._

_This was all becoming normal, and that was the maddest thing of all._

_"I saved the world." Vala smiled sleepily. "I'm totally awesome."_

_"You sure are." Rory gently settled Vala's hand back on the bed. "Are you going to sleep now?"_

_"I hope so." A few minutes passed in quiet. Rory was about to leave the infirmary when she heard Vala whisper, "I wish Adria had been like you."_

_Rory settled back onto her chair and watched Vala sleep, light curving softly around her body and trickling down to earth._

_For Rory knew about Adria, and the Ori, and it made her wonder._

"Dinner is served," Emily announced from the doorway. "Come inside before you catch cold!"

"Mom, it's the beginning of May!"

"All the more reason to come inside!"

Rory shook off her stupor. Lorelai had no idea that Rory wasn't a Hayden child, but a McKay, and there was no way for Rory to explain, not in her grandparents' back yard.

She knew what others would think. If Lorelai had raised the wrong man's child, there were some who would call her a slut, one of those girls who slept around, but that wasn't it at all. Rory knew her mother, knew that Lorelai would never be able to lie about something as important as Rory's real father. Lorelai could never lie about this to Christopher, and certainly not to Rory herself.

And in that, she was a better person than Rory.

"Come on, Mom," Rory said. She put her arm through Lorelai's, pulling her mother toward the house. "The food they had on the plane was horrible."

"You work for the Air Force and they made you fly commercial?" Lorelai tisked under her breath. "Those meanies."

"Not everyone in the Air Force is a Top Gun pilot."

"There go years of fantasizing about Val Kilmer in uniform."

"Although I think those were Navy pilots."

"And there's a phrase that makes no sense." Lorelai pulled the door closed behind her and hurried Rory towards the living room. "Hungry now."

Rory's chair was in the same place as always, table perfectly set. Rory settled on the edge of her seat and waited.

Like clockwork, the questions came with the salad course. "So, Rory, you said you had wanted a favor from us," Richard began.

"Can't this wait until after the first course?" Lorelai asked.

"No, Mom, it's okay." Rory poked at the avocado in her salad and wondered if Emily had asked for them on purpose. Lorelai had always detested avocado. "The Air Force is working to give me a certain level of security clearance--"

"What does that mean?" Lorelai asked.

"Don't interrupt the girl, let her answer!" Emily said.

"A high level of security clearance," Rory said, not sure she wanted her mother knowing that she was being fast-tracked toward top secret clearance. "And as such, they need to do a thorough background check. They are going to need to talk to Grandpa and Grandma, as you're holding all that money from Great-Grandmother in trust for me."

"Are they going to talk to me?" Lorelai asked.

"It depends on how much they want to know about our foreign travels. I can't make any promises."

Lorelai pouted. "But I'd be excellent at it. Would it be those nice Air Force men? Homeland security?"

"The FBI."

"The men in black?"

Rory's heart skipped a beat. Lorelai was just being cute, not actually asking about aliens on earth. "Or women," Rory said. "Remember the X-Files, they do have women in the FBI now."

"Go girl power."

"Of course we'll answer any questions," Richard interrupted smoothly. "Anything you need."

"Good." Rory took up her fork again. "But... don't try and play me up. Just tell the truth, even if it's not all that pretty. I can't afford any complications on the clearance."

Richard and Emily exchanged a glance. "What does that mean?" Richard asked.

Rory took a moment to chew and swallow a bite of tomato. "It means that I need this to go smoothly. So if they ask anything embarrassing, just answer it. Please."

"How embarrassing?" Lorelai asked. "Like you only scored an A- on a high school Latin test?"

"Like I dropped out of Yale for a semester," Rory said. She focused on the artfully arranged lettuce in front of her, and tried to remember all that she would be returning to the next day. "Or that I lived with Logan for a while, or that thing with Dean."

Lorelai slowly stopped chewing. Rory couldn't do more than glance at her mother, couldn't take the weight of unasked questions in her eyes.

"So, please, just be honest," Rory said again. "This is very, very important to me."

Rory needed the top-secret level clearance. She needed it for access to the secret files the SGC had on zero point energy, the ones she wasn't allowed to see yet, and Dr. Lee wasn't allowed to discuss with her.

It was the only way to see what had been happening at Atlantis and all their experiments with zero point energy.

It was the only way she'd get to Atlantis.

It was the only way she'd be able to _understand_.


	10. With Friends Like These

_Top Secret Security Clearance Application_  
Lorelai Leigh Gilmore  
DOB 1984-Oct-08 Department of Air Force Civilian (DAFC), Cheyenne Mountain.

 _Character Reference Interview_  
Name: Paris Gellar, MD  
Relationship: College roommate

"Now, Miss Gellar--"

" _Doctor_ Gellar," the young woman snapped. "I've been certified since last week. I can't believe Rory didn't put that on the forms!"

"We received Miss Gilmore's paperwork two weeks ago, Dr. Gellar." The FBI agent adjusted the papers in front of him. "Since Miss Gilmore listed you as a character reference for her application for security clearance, I assume she told you that we will be asking you questions on your relationship with her."

Dr. Gellar, a woman with the given name of Paris, glared suspiciously at the man. "She said it was in a civilian position, so what do her relationships matter?"

"We don't necessarily mean that sort of relationship, ma'am." The agent made a note on his papers. "But perhaps you can start by telling me about that."

"We didn't have a _relationship_ ," Paris said hastily. "We were friends in high school. And roommates in college."

"That's all?"

"Of course it is!" Paris frowned. "I suppose she told you about those kisses, didn't she? Well, the first was part of a high school English project and the second was a sociological experiment."

In spite of himself, the man's pen slowed, then stopped. "You and Miss Gilmore kissed because of a high school English project?"

"I was Romeo and she was Juliet. And while there is nothing wrong with an alternative lifestyle," Paris added quickly, "I'm completely heterosexual, even taking the Kinsey Effect into account. Ask Doyle."

"Doyle McMaster, your boyfriend of several years?"

"Yes." Paris edged forward in her chair. "Wait, how did you know that?"

"From Miss Gilmore."

"Man, Rory can't keep her mouth shut!"

The man flipped over a page. "Does Miss Gilmore often speak freely? Perhaps too freely?"

"Of course not!" Paris crossed her arms over her chest, defensive. The agent wrote something down. "She's like any good reporter, she gathers information and writes a good story on the facts."

"You were her editor on your high school paper and on the college paper in Yale, is that correct?"

"Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Did you often assign Miss Gilmore stories of a political nature? Did she suggest to you that she cover such stories?"

"Some of both." Paris narrowed her eyes at the man. "Is this some kind of political witch-hunt? Just because the girl's been talking about voting Democrat since she was sixteen doesn't mean that she's a national security risk! She's even a Daughter of the American Revolution!"

The man laid down his pen. "Dr. Gellar, we are only interested in the truth. This is not a witch-hunt. We are tasked with bringing in a complete profile of the individual. I was under the impression that Miss Gilmore had explained this to you before you agreed to act as a character reference."

"She did," Paris admitted. "But I..." She cleared her throat. "Fine. Go on with your questions."

The man inclined his head and picked up his pen once more. "In the time that you have known her, has Miss Gilmore demonstrated any changes in personality?"

Paris considered. "You said that you want honesty?"

"We do, Dr. Gellar."

"Fine. When she met Logan Huntzberger, she told you about him?" Without waiting for a response, Paris went on. "She went a little Britney Spears loco, stealing a boat and dropping out of Yale for a semester and living in her grandparents' pool house, talk about low expectations. But she finally came to her senses and came back to Yale."

"Do you know what prompted this change?"

Paris looked left, then right, then leaned across the table. "My therapist said that it was a combination of too-high expectations combined with self-esteem problems and problems with older men in a position of authority. The girl's got daddy issues."

"Can you give me specifics?"

"Mitchell Huntzberger, Logan's father, told her she wasn't good reporter. I've said that to her at least three times over the years and she always ignored me, but oh no, Daddy Huntzberger apparently knew something I didn't, and she listened to him." Paris slumped back in her seat. "If Rory's father had been around when she was growing up, it's unlikely she'd have bothered to listen. Anyway, it set her off. Would she listen to me when I told her she was stupid for dropping out of Yale for a year? No."

The agent continued to write as Paris nattered on. When she stopped for breath, he moved on in the line of questioning.

"Can you tell me about Miss Gilmore's spending habits since you have known her?" Do you know where she got her money?"

Paris settled in for the long haul. "You want to talk money? Let's talk money."

* * *

 

 _Character Reference Interview_  
Name: Logan Huntzberger  
Relationship: Former boyfriend

"Now, Mr. Huntzberger, tell me how you met Rory Gilmore."

"At Yale."

The agent waited. "Mr. Huntzberger, if you could perhaps offer a little more explanation than that?"

Logan shifted in his office chair. "We met at Yale, Agent Smith."

The man blinked. "I'm not here in an antagonistic capacity, Mr. Huntzberger. Miss Gilmore informed us that she told you that."

Logan fidgeted. "Maybe she did."

"Can I take this to mean that you and Miss Gilmore are not on the best of terms?"

"Sure, if you want. You want some coffee?"

"No, thank you." The agent flipped through his papers as Logan got up and moved to the coffee pot. "Miss Gilmore said that you asked her to marry you, and she declined your offer, and that you refused to continue a cross-country relationship."

"So?"

"You were interested in marriage, but not in continuing with Miss Gilmore after a rejection? Why not?"

Logan set the coffee carafe down with a thud. "Maybe I wasn't a huge fan of being made a fool of," he snapped.

"Do you consider that Miss Gilmore made a fool of you?"

Logan carried his cup to the window and looked out. "What do you want me to say?"

"All we ask is the pure and simple truth, Mr. Huntzberger."

"Truth," Logan muttered. "The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

"Is that so, Mr. Huntzberger?"

"It's a quote," Logan said, condescension dripping from his words. "Oscar Wilde. Look, I asked Rory to marry me in front of everyone we knew. I didn't know how to deal with she said no. Maybe if it had been..." He shook his head. "I wasn't too fond of Rory Gilmore for a while there."

The agent's pen scratched on the paper. "You and she were in a relationship for two years?"

"Yes."

"You lived together for part of that time, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You co-habited prior to discussing marriage?"

Logan finally turned around. "What the hell does that matter?"

The agent ignored the question. "In that time you were living together, were living expenses shared?"

"No, I took care of things." Logan went back to his chair. "What does that matter? Rory was on a budget and the money didn't matter to me."

The agent continued to write. "Did Miss Gilmore ever approach you for gifts, cash or otherwise?"

"What? Of course not! Rory's not that kind of girl!" Logan was beginning to get upset. "Rory doesn't ask for charity!"

"And yet when you lived together, she didn't pay for the living expenses."

"I told you, she was on a budget--"

"So you offered to pay for the expenses."

"Yes!" Logan sat back. "I mean, not exactly, I asked her to move in so it was sort of assumed."

"I see." The man's pen scratching was expressive.

Logan's jaw clenched.

* * *

 

 _Character Reference Interview_  
Name: Dean Forrester  
Relationship: Former boyfriend

"Mr. Forrester, this will only take a few minutes."

The tall man, still covered with drywall dust from his day at work, sat back in a chair in his kitchen. "You want a drink?" he asked. "I've got beer and some pop."

"No, thank you." The agent waited while Dean cracked open a cola. "As I was saying, Miss Gilmore informed you what we are doing?"

"Yeah, she did." Dean swallowed some of the cola. "She's working for the Air Force? That's pretty cool. Never took her for someone who was into the military."

"You have known Miss Gilmore since she was sixteen?"

"Since we both were sixteen, yeah."

"In that time, did she ever express a view on the military to you?"

Dean shrugged. "Sort of. Like, she wasn't all that into the war in Iraq, but she was totally behind the soldiers, you know? I think she even did some fundraising for vehicle amour. But that was a year or so after we-- I mean, after we drifted apart."

"And you know about her activities because?"

Dean knocked back the rest of his soda. "It's a small town. Lorelai tells Babette, Babette tells Miss Patty, Miss Patty tells Taylor Dose, Taylor tells me. That sort of thing."

"Indeed. So Miss Gilmore never expressed any other opinion towards the military?"

"Not really. We usually talked about other stuff."

"Such as?"

Dean fidgeted with the empty can. "Books and movies and college and stuff."

"I see." The man scribbled on his paper. "Now, Miss Gilmore has told us that your relationship had two phases."

"I guess you could call it that."

"And the second 'round' started while you were still married."

A long pause, then, "Yeah."

"Tell me about that."

A deep flush colored Dean's cheeks. "It's not something that I'm proud of."

The agent didn't comment.

"I got married too young and it was a mistake, that's all."

"Who initiated the affair, you or Miss Gilmore?"

"It was sort of both of us."

"Who ended it?"

"I did."

"Why?"

Dean slowly crushed the can between his hands. "I just did."

"There has to be a reason."

It took Dean almost a minute to answer. "I wasn't part of her world, not really." He dropped the mangled can onto the table. "And she knew it."

The agent went back to his writing. "How would Miss Gilmore react to the knowledge of this affair being made public?"

Dean finally looked up at the man. "Everyone in town knows about it already, they have for years," he said, confused. "I thought Rory told you. Lindsey's mom tells everyone about it whenever anyone asks why Linds was divorced."

"I see." The man flipped over a page. "Have you spoken to Miss Gilmore recently? For example, when she returned to Stars Hollow this winter?"

"No." Dean straightened in his chair. "Rory wasn't doing much talking to anyone back then."

"Was that in character for her?"

"No, but her dad was dying of bone cancer, I think."

"Did you speak with her at all?"

"No." Dean shook his head. "I don't talk to Rory these days. Just... I don't."

The pen moved over the page.

* * *

 

 _Character Reference Interview_  
Name: Lane Van Gerbig nee Kim  
Relationship: Friend since 1989

The agent sat at the kitchen table, waiting while Lane Van Gerbig paced back and forth across the floor, her arms full of squirming toddler.

"I'm sorry," the young woman apologized for the third time. "Kwan's not usually like this, he's getting over a fever."

"No need to apologize, Mrs. Van Gerbig," the agent said. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Anything for Rory," Lane said. She shifted her son to her hip and pushed the hair back from his forehead. The little boy glared sulkily at the FBI agent. "She's really working for the Air Force? That's so cool." Lane smiled wistfully. "She was always going to get a really cool job traveling the world."

A wooden brick flew across the room, bouncing off the table and landing beside the agent's coffee cup.

"Steve!" Lane whirled on her other son, who gave her wide innocent eyes. The agent had to bite his lip to stop from laughing. "We do not throw things at guests!"

"Sorwy, mommy" the little boy said, but his antics had set his twin to giggling. With an exasperated sigh, Lane put Kwan on the play mat next to Steve, then headed back to the kitchen table.

"Now, Agent..."

"Agent Smith, ma'am," he reminded her.

"Agent Smith." Lane adjusted her chair so she could keep a close eye on the twins. "You wanted to ask about Rory?"

"Indeed." The man went back to his papers. "You have known Rory Gilmore for how long?"

"Since kindergarten, almost twenty years," Lane said. She looked faintly surprised by the fact. "We went to school together until sophomore year, then she transferred to Chilton and we just hung out in the evenings and on weekends."

"So you consider that you know her very well."

"Oh yes," Lane said without hesitation.

"Then can you explain the changes in her personality over the last year?"

Lane blinked at the man. "I'm not sure what you mean."

The agent waited.

"Well, I mean, she changed a little bit," Lane finally confessed. "She quit her job without having another one back in December, that was a little out of character, but it was because her dad had leukemia."

"Our information states that Ms. Gilmore found out about Christopher Hayden's illness in January."

"It does?" Lane looked flustered. "Then it must have been something else."

"And after that? Between January and March? Can you tell me about Miss Gilmore's behavior then?"

"Well, she was... I mean, she was still Rory, just distracted and stuff. She was doing a lot of research and working at the dinner, covering for me when I was taking care of the twins, when they had the chicken pox." Under the weight of the silence in the room, Lane twisted her fingers together. "She was just a little spacey. It wasn't like she was on drugs or anything."

"Are you certain on that point?"

"Of course! Rory never does drugs. She doesn't even smoke."

"Does Miss Gilmore have any bad habits? For example, does she gamble?"

"No, not even a little." Lane looked over at the twins, more as an excuse to avoid the agent's gaze. "She's a great person. A great friend. She's always there for me. She's my best friend."

The agent turned over a page in his folder. "Did she tell you about her father?"

Lane frowned. "Of course she did. As soon as she found out that he had leukaemia, she told me and started helping him look for a bone marrow donor."

The agent wrote several lines on his papers. "Thank you. Now, since you have known Miss Gilmore for so long, please think back. Have you noticed any changes in her spending habits over the years?"

"Not really." Lane gave a slight frown. "When we were kids, it didn't really register, but I sort of knew they didn't have a lot of money, her and Lorelai. Rory had a bit of spending money in high school and stuff. Then she went off to Chilton but she wasn't rich, same thing at Yale. She had enough to live on. No big spending or anything."

"She attended a private high school with a fifty-thousand-dollar enrollment fee and ten thousand a year tuition, for three years. She did not receive financial aid to attend Yale. When she was eighteen, she became the registered owner of a new hybrid car. If she did not come from money, can you explain how all these things were financed?"

"You should ask Rory about that stuff, I'm not really sure..."

"You said that you were Miss Gilmore's best friend. You didn't talk about these things?"

"No, we did, it's just--"

"Mrs. Van Gerbig, it would help us, and Miss Gilmore, if you could answer to the best of your ability."

Lane's cheeks colored. "Rory told me that her mom borrowed the money for Chilton from her parents. Her grandfather gave her the car when she graduated from high school, and Rory borrowed the money for the first few years of Yale from her grandparents, then her dad paid for the rest. He inherited a ton of money and gave Rory the money for school. That's all. Just family."

The agent spent a few minutes writing. "Now, Mrs. Van Gerbig, a few questions about Miss Gilmore's personality. Can you name for me some of Miss Gilmore's personal weaknesses?"

Looking more uncomfortable as the questions mounted, Lane hesitated a minute before saying, "I'm not really sure what you want to know."

"I am only trying to get a complete picture of Miss Gilmore's personality. Nothing more."

Lane took a deep breath. "We made a pact when we were thirteen that we'd always call each other on our annoying quirks, anyway. She's... well, she can be a little sarcastic at times. And she doesn't deal all that well with stupidity. She sometimes can't stand it when someone can't grasp a point she's talking about."

"Anything else?"

"Other than an over-reliance on obscure pop culture references?"

"Yes, other than that."

Lane tapped a staccato beat on the table. "I can't think of anything else. She's really a great person. I'm glad she's my friend."

The agent set his pen on the table. "And yet she didn't explain what has been happening with her since December?"

"She said she needed some time to work through stuff. She'll tell me eventually."

It seemed to the agent as if Lane Van Gerbig actually believed that.

* * *

 

 _Character Reference Interview_  
Name: Luke Danes  
Relationship: Mother's boyfriend

"I don't know what I can tell you."

The agent set his briefcase down on the diner counter. "Mr. Danes, you have known Rory Gilmore since she was twelve years old. You are currently dating her mother, after being engaged once before, and you gave Miss Gilmore a temporary job in January when she returned to Stars Hollow. You can tell me about Rory Gilmore."

Luke Danes didn't stop moving; filling the coffee filter, organizing napkins, anything to keep his hands busy. "She's a good kid."

"Why did you give her a job in January?"

"She needed some money and Lane was out sick with the chicken pox boys. I needed another set of hands around the diner."

"Miss Gilmore has a journalism degree from Yale. You didn't consider her overqualified?"

Luke shoved the coffee filter back into the machine with more force than necessary. "She can take orders and she's damned efficient. And she yells less at the customers than I do. I figured it was a good trade."

"Her mother didn't suggest it?"

Luke let out a snort. "Lorelai wasn't impressed at all with what Rory was up to. But Rory needed the money and I needed the help, like I said."

"Your offer wasn't charity?"

"I don't do charity, ask anyone."

A tall lanky man, who had just entered the diner, came up to the counter. "It's true, Luke doesn't give charity. He's not very civic minded."

Luke threw a dish rag over his shoulder. "Kirk, don't help."

"But you said--"

"What do you want?"

Kirk settled back, grumbling. "Hot chocolate and chili fries. To go."

The agent waited until Luke bundled the curious Kirk out of the door, chili fries in hand, before continuing. "While she was working here, what did you discuss?"

"Not much. Rory was pretty quiet when she worked here."

"According to my other interviews, that was not in character for her."

"Well, sometimes people go through phases."

"Has Miss Gilmore ever gone through such a phase before?"

Luke shrugged. "How should I know?"

"Because Miss Gilmore, to paraphrase her own words, ate breakfast and most dinners here for over half her life. Because you almost married her mother, and because you were the first person she listed as a character reference on her security clearance application forms." Luke's head jerked up. He apparently had not known that. "Now, Mr. Danes, had Miss Gilmore ever before exhibited the sort of behavior she did between January and March of this year?"

"No, she hadn't," the man said grudgingly.

"Did you ask her what had precipitated the change in her behavior?"

"Maybe I did. Once or twice."

"Did she answer?"

"She said she was just going through some stuff. That was it."

"And you didn't press her for more information?"

"No, I didn't. If she wanted to tell me, she'd tell me."

"Would she feel comfortable discussing things with you?"

"Maybe. You'd have to ask her."

The agent pulled out a pen and scribbled something on his notepad. "One last question, Mr. Danes. Would you consider Miss Gilmore as family?"

Luke pulled the cloth off his shoulder and pulled it between his hands, thinking. "There's nothing to consider," he said finally. "She is family."

The man closed his folder. "I see," was all he said.

* * *

 

 _Character Reference Interview_  
Name: Emily Gilmore  
Relationship: Maternal Grandmother  
Name: Richard Gilmore  
Relationship: Maternal Grandfather

"Mr. Gilmore, Mrs. Gilmore. Thank you for taking the time to see me."

"Anything for Rory," Richard Gilmore said. "Now, Rory said that you'd want to know details of the money we hold in trust for her. I've arranged to have the information sent over." He pushed a folder across the table to the agent. "As you'll see, it's all very simple. My mother, Lorelai Gilmore, left the money in trust for Rory for when she reaches twenty-five, and I was left the administrator after my mother passed away."

"According to my records, you've been taking care of Miss Gilmore's financial needs since she was sixteen."

The jovial expression on Richard's face slid away, and he and his wife exchanged a glance. "How exactly do you mean?" Richard asked.

The agent open his briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "You financed Miss Gilmore's Chilton education through a personal loan to her mother, your daughter Lorelai." He turned a page. "You bought Miss Gilmore an expensive car when she was eighteen. You arranged a personal loan with Miss Gilmore herself to finance her first two and a half years of Yale. She and Mrs. Gilmore went on a month-long trip to Europe one summer that was paid for entirely by Mrs. Gilmore. All told, it has been your money that has educated, fed and clothed Miss Gilmore for many years."

"And what if it has?" Emily said suddenly. "She's our granddaughter, and we're in a financial position to support her if we want."

"If I may broach what Miss Gilmore indicated might be a delicate situation -- when your daughter Lorelai moved out of this house at seventeen, a teenage single mother, you did not support her financially."

Richard cleared his throat. "Lorelai decided that she did not any financial support from us," he said emotionlessly. "It was her choice."

"What prompted you to offer her the money to pay for Miss Gilmore's education at Chilton Preparatory School?"

"Lorelai asked, and it was a loan. Not a gift."

The man flipped through his papers. "Before that 'loan', Miss Gilmore said that she saw you only a few times a year, on holidays. After the loan for Chilton, she and her mother saw you at least once a week. What prompted this change?"

"Can't we just have wanted to get to know our granddaughter a little more?" Emily began, but Richard stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Emily," he said. "It was an informal condition of the loan, that Lorelai and Rory come over for dinner on Fridays."

The agent pulled out a pen. "After Miss Gilmore graduated from Chilton and began attending Yale, this pattern of dinners continued."

"When Rory borrowed the money to attend Yale, she suggested it as a term of the loan," Richard said before Emily could interrupt.

"Who approached whom about the Yale loan?"

"Rory came to us," Richard said. "It was completely her idea."

"I see." The agent wrote on his papers. "What other conditions exist on that loan?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Richard said.

"There is no paperwork on the loan, no signed terms of collateral or repayment. We cannot be sure what other terms Miss Gilmore may be held to, legal or implied."

"There's nothing else," Emily said quickly. "And the very implication that we would hold _anything_ over our granddaughter--"

"A very expensive and crucial loan for your granddaughter's education brought your daughter back to this house after fifteen years away," the agent pointed out. "If Miss Gilmore is under obligations to anyone, financially or otherwise, we need to know about it." Before Emily could say anything, the agent turned a page. "If you could, please explain why the loans for such large amounts of money were never certified with repayment terms."

As Richard tried to answer, Emily glowered.

The agent made another note. 

* * *

There was a knocking at the door of her borrowed apartment. Rory lay still on the couch, head buried under a pillow, and tried to ignore the noise. She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours and her mind wouldn't stop whirling long enough for her to calm down.

Of course, when the door clicked open, Rory couldn't ignore it any longer. She moved the pillow off her face to see Vala kicking the door shut behind her. "Hey," Vala said brightly. "How are you feeling?"

Rory closed her eyes again. "Don't look at me."

"Why?" Vala tossed the keys onto the counter and went to the fridge. "Did something happen to that pretty face of yours?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'm a horrible person."

"Uh huh. Do you want popcorn or chips?"

Rory stared at the ceiling. The setting sun glared orange and harsh through the glass of the high rise, shattering words hastily written against the chandelier glass. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you." The microwave beeped a few times. "But after eating MREs off-world for two weeks, I want popcorn. Did you know, there's a whole universe out there, with all kinds of highly evolved technology, and no other planet ever thought to slather a dried grain with artificially flavored fats and then irradiate it into a snack food?"

Rory let the burning light sparkle and burn in her eyes, Vala's words washing over her.

"I like what you've done with the place," Vala went on. "It's starting to lose some of that museum stuffiness and actually look as if someone lives here. I'm glad I talked Daniel into letting you stay here."

"I thought Daniel offered," Rory heard herself say.

"He did, but after I suggested that a little thing like you might want to live in a place that wasn't miles underground." The microwave beeped again. Vala poured the popcorn into a bowl and carried it over to the couch. She sat down by Rory's feet. "So you should say thank you."

"Thank you," Rory said quietly.

Vala nudged Rory's calf. "What's wrong?"

Rory curled up into a ball, unable to look away from the chandelier. "Just... everything."

Vala put the popcorn bowl on the table. "All right, up you get," she ordered. She put her hand under Rory's elbow and hauled the girl into a sitting position. "Eat some of this and then tell me what's got you in such a twist."

Being ordered to eat microwave popcorn and tell Mommy all about it was too familiar for Rory to disobey, and if the interrogator in question was an interstellar con artist who doubled as Miss Save The World 2008 and the Anti-Blessed Mary... well, that was just weird enough to be normal.

"I spent the last few days doing my interviews for the security clearance," Rory said after she'd downed a few handfuls of popcorn.

"So?"

Rory rolled an unpopped kernel between her fingers. "And I'm a horrible person."

Vala frowned. "In exactly what way are you a horrible person?"

"Where do you want me to begin?" Rory said bitterly. "I've been lying to my mother about my real father, I slept with my married ex-boyfriend and broke up his marriage, I leave all my friends behind--"

Vala whistled sharply, cutting Rory off. "Thank you," she said into the quiet. "You do realize that your sense of scale is galactially off, right?"

"What?"

Vala pulled her legs up onto the couch, her shoes scuffing against the leather of the cushions. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Vala--"

"Ever stolen anyone's child away from them? Destroyed a sun? Sent a people into slavery? Kicked a puppy?" Slapping Rory's cheek lightly, Vala went on. "You need to get a sense of proportion. I'll bet you don't even jaywalk."

"But I stole a boat!"

"So? I've stolen a hundred spaceships. Well, maybe thirty-seven," Vala amended. "And yes, you've done some things that don't exactly exude virtue, but so? That doesn't change the fact that Jack O'Neill has been bending over backwards to get you the clearance on paper that you seem to have in fact, which by the way don't mention to Mitchell, he's in a bit of a snit about something. Anyway, what was I saying?"

"Jack O'Neill's acrobatics?"

"Oh, right. And since Daniel tells me his joints aren't what they used to be, it's certainly saying something."

Rory stared at Vala. "Is there a point you're trying to make?"

"My point, sunshine, is that you haven't done anything _bad_ in your whole life and so you need to stop whining and concentrate on what's important." Vala stretched her legs out on Rory's lap.

"And what's that?"

"Your daddy issues," Vala said. "I took a look at the character reference interviews. Did you really kiss Paris Gellar? That certainly puts a disturbingly Electra spin on your 'Rodney McKay is the new Paris' comment from a few weeks ago."

Rory shoved Vala's feet to the ground. "You saw the interview files?" she said incredulously. "Those are confidential! No one is supposed to see those!"

"And who exactly are you talking to?" Vala raised her eyebrows. "And you sure do know how to pick them. That Logan kid is a piece of work."

Rory felt her insides turn to ice. "Did... did he say anything bad about me?" she asked, hating how weak the question made her sound.

"What? No, it's not that." Vala's gaze was disconcerting. "But quoting dead playwrights in an interview with the FBI isn't exactly indicative of a healthy attitude towards authority figures who can make him disappear."

Rory shook her head. That sounded like something Logan would have done. She wouldn't have asked him to help her at all, but the period they had spent living together had set off warning bells with the interviewer. She hadn't had much choice.

"I don't think I'd like him," Vala finished.

"I think that's an understatement."

"See? You're starting to use multi-syllabic words again," Vala said with a smile. "You're going to be just fine."

"But--"

"But," Vala stopped her. "Why are you sitting in the dark picking this all apart?"

Rory pressed her forehead against her knees. "Everything just feels wrong. I spent three days trying to defend every single action I've ever taken and it's not a fun sensation to have your entire life dismantled by men in black suits."

Vala snorted. "Three days? If you had me in there, it'd take months. I think that's maybe why they've never tried."

Rory managed to smile.

"So, what are we going to do tonight?" Vala asked. "I've got two whole days off, and as long as I promise to stay with you or Mitchell, I can be off-post."

"What's Daniel up to? You usually stick around him."

Vala looked distinctly disgruntled. "Dr. Jackson is going to be spending the next three days getting unmarried."

"Daniel got married?" Rory squeaked. "Off-world? What happened? Who's the bride?"

"Captain Jones."

Rory's eyes grew wide. "Captain _Martin_ Jones? The RAF captain who was working temporarily with SG-8?"

"Yes, yes, that one," Vala said impatiently. "Apparently on P3X-7R1, when the lips of two men touch in public, it's a sign of betrothal."

Rory blinked. "Daniel and Captain Jones started _kissing_? Off-world? Did aliens make them do it?"

"No, aliens didn't make them do it." Vala made a face. "Daniel fell into the river and Captain Jones had to perform CPR. Daniel's just fine, but married."

"Wow," Rory breathed. "How's Captain Jones taking it?"

"You know the RAF contingent. Drinking tea and being all understated. Their Colonel is having a great time with this."

Rory frowned. "Hey, if Cameron or Teal'c had performed CPR on Daniel, would that make them married?"

"Yes, as I heard numerous times from Cameron," Vala huffed. "I mean, it's not my fault that Jones was a champion sprinter. He just got to Daniel first, that's all. It could have been me."

"Huh." Rory settled back on the couch. "So, Daniel and Martin Jones."

Vala glared at Rory.

"It's just, you know. It's not like Captain Jones has been hit with the fugly stick."

"Not the point."

"When he first got to the SGC, I heard you say that you'd hit it."

"I meant I could slap him," Vala clarified.

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Stop it!"

"You can't tell me you didn't spend at least five seconds thinking about Daniel and Captain Jones--"

"I said stop it!" Vala shook her head. "You're supposed to be the voice of reason and _not_ to be encouraging me into depravity. You just wait until you get your off-world clearance and you get accidentally married for the first time!"

Rory couldn't help smiling. "It depends, can I go off-world with the British guys?"

"Stop it, or I'll tell Daniel that you're hitting on his husband." Vala sprang up off the couch. "Let's go out to dinner, I need food that isn't from an oversized condom wrapper."

"You just ate a whole bowl of popcorn."

"Sneaking into top-secret confidential files burns a lot of calories," Vala protested. "Plus, I've spent the last two days mocking Daniel mercilessly. That takes an intense amount of effort."

"Yes, I'm sure it was a great work-out," Rory said as she stood. "Is Daniel ever going to talk to you again?"

"Probably not." Vala sighed. "But he's nicer to be around when he's not talking."

"As long as he just lies back and thinks of England?"

Vala beamed approvingly. "Exactly what I've been thinking."

* * *

They were halfway through dinner when Vala asked, "I can understand not telling your mother that she's been wrong about your father your whole life, that might cause some angst over the dinner table. But are you ever going to tell McKay?"

Rory concentrated on her burger and didn't answer.

"Not that I care... well, much." Vala reached for her milkshake. "But wasn't that one of the points in your interview? How this whole 'Who's your daddy' mess was a point against you in the security clearance situation."

"It is." Rory fiddled with her fries. "And I am."

Vala lowered her glass. "You are? How? When?"

"In today's data burst to Atlantis."

Vala stared. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that you're sending Rodney McKay an _email_ telling him that he's your father?"

"Sort it. It's kind of at the bottom of that math proof I've been working on."

"So he's going to read pages and pages of how very wrong he has been and then at the end you're going to spring it that you're his offspring?" Vala considered. "That's just mean."

"It's not mean, it's just... complicated." Rory bit her lip. "It made more sense last night when I attached the message to the data burst. I hadn't had a lot of sleep."

Vala started laughing as she checked her watch. "The data was set to go through two hours ago. So when Rodney checks his email..." She kept laughing. "Darling, you sure know drama."

Before Rory could come up with an appropriately witty remark, Vala's cell phone rang.

"One second," Vala said. "Hello?"

Rory barely had time to register as Vala's face when blank, when her blackberry started to beep. She snatched the device from her purse. She had one new message from Bill Lee at the SGC.

_Phone call to the barn didn't work - get back here. Now._

Vala clicked her phone closed. "We have to go, right now," she said without any hint of the humor she'd shown only moments before. "Go get the car, I'll take care of the bill."

Rory got to her feet, numb. It shouldn't be anything to worry about. Maybe there was a problem with the dialing sequence to the Pegasus Galaxy, what Bill Lee had referred to as the 'barn' in his email. It was a minor glitch, Rory was sure. They'd fix it, and the SGC would dial Pegasus and her message would be delivered to Rodney McKay.

Everything was going to be fine. Everything had to be fine.

Somehow, she'd gotten outside. She stood on the sidewalk and looked around. She'd parked the car around here somewhere, but where?

The SGC couldn't dial Atlantis and she couldn't remember where she parked the car.

Vala was at her side then, taking the keys from her hand and guiding her down the sidewalk. "How about I drive us back?" she said.

Rory was sure she was supposed to protest, something about Vala not having a driver's license, but her mind was racing.

The SGC couldn't reach Atlantis. What if something had happened to Atlantis?

What if something had happened to Rodney McKay?

Once they were on the road, Vala only breaking a few inconsequential laws, Rory managed to ask, "Who was on the phone?"

"It was Daniel," Vala said. She slowed enough for appearances-sake at the stop sign, then accelerated again. "The dialing sequence got as far as the relay station between galaxies, but then the gates on the other side wouldn't dial through to Atlantis."

"Maybe they had a wormhole open?"

"The SGC has been dialing every five minutes for the last two hours. The other wormhole would have shut down by now." Vala bit her lip. "There's more."

Rory watched as headlights flashed by, silent and uncaring in the dark. "What more?"

"General Landry sent a MALP through to the relay station. There was a message there. Written on a sheet of metal, in what Daniel thinks is Sam's handwriting."

"What did it say?"

Vala cut across traffic to the exit to Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base. "It said there was a foothold situation. Atlantis scrambled the dialing macro that uses the line of stargates to link our galaxy and theirs. They were cutting themselves off from Earth to protect this galaxy."

"Protect us from what?"

Vala's hands tightened on the steering wheel as they slowed on approach to the security checkpoint. "She didn't say. But..." Vala's voice was nearing the breaking point, wavering as it had since she started speaking about Sam Carter. "The message on the metal, it was written in blood."

Rory's hand closed over Vala's in the dark. "They're going to be okay," she said, not recognizing her own voice. "They're always okay. Just like SG-1. They'll pull through."

Vala sniffled as the armed airman headed over to their car. "They'd better be," she said. "I'm not a huge fan of losing people I care about."

The night air pressed in on Rory, a dark more threatening than any under the mountain.

All she could imagine was a ragged sheet of metal spinning in zero gravity, bloody words written as a warning scream across the stars.

_Foothold situation._

* * *

The blood on the metal, while human, hadn't belonged to Sam Carter after all. It hadn't matched any of the expedition members, not even the Pegasus Galaxy natives on Atlantis. But there had been an energy residue consistent with Wraith blasters all over the metal.

The IOA and the Joint Chiefs collaborated for days on the matter, and finally decided against sending the Odyssey or the Daedalus to the Pegasus Galaxy. In the absence of any information on the type of foothold situation on Atlantis, they hadn't wanted to risk the ships, by now both bristling with Asgard technology, falling into the hands of the Wraith or the Replicators or any new alien that had managed to infiltrate Atlantis.

The IOA forbade the SGC from attempting to rebuild the dialing macro from the relay station to the Pegasus Galaxy. But the Joint Chiefs had negotiated a loophole where the SGC could attempt to dial Atlantis on occasion, just in case the Atlantis team eradicated the threat and rebuilt the gate bridge.

And so, life went on. Rory's security clearance moved forward with glacial slowness; she started classes at the University of Colorado and continued working at the SGC; even managing to save the world all by herself for the first time on a hot day late in August. SG-1 still managed to top out the quarter in the 'Save the World' pool, and Daniel and Vala took Rory to Las Vegas on her birthday with the winnings.

But, in spite of all that, in spite of the danger and fading hope, every Friday at eleven hundred hours, the SGC tried to dial Atlantis.

Every week.

For six months.

Without success.


	11. Home for a Rest

_But, in spite of all that, in spite of the danger and fading hope, every Friday at eleven hundred hours, the SGC tried to dial Atlantis._

_Every week._

_For six months._

_Without success._

* * *

In some ways, six months wasn't a very long time at all. In terms of glacial formation, the spin of the stars, the evolution of a species, six months was less thank an eye blink in the face of eternity.

In other ways, six months was a lifetime. When a man could die in less than a second, when a baby could be born in minutes and a city saved by frantic men and women in an hour of frantic miracles, six months could be an eternity.

To Colonel Samantha Carter, those six months felt like forever and no time at all, as Chuck the technician deciphered the incoming message tag from the sudden wormhole and said, voice full of a hope she'd never thought to hear again, "It's Stargate Command."

Sam took a deep breath, fighting down her own euphoria. Atlantis and all her people had _survived_ , had triumphed over their enemies, and were stronger for it. Now they were once more in contact with home and Sam could stop worrying about supplies and her friends and the Earth, and _know_.

She punched a button on the consol and stood a little straighter. "Stargate Command, this is Atlantis," she said. "Colonel Samantha Carter, authorization code Alpha Charlie 7-4-9. The foothold situation is over. I repeat, authorization code Alpha Charlie 7-4-9, the foothold situation at Atlantis is over."

Tinny cheers came over the speakers from a galaxy away. Behind her, Sam knew the Atlantis control crew was doing some quiet celebrating of their own. Then General Landry's voice sounded across the stars. "We copy, Atlantis," he said. "It's good to hear from you, Colonel."

"It's good to hear you too, General." Sam glanced up as Lt. Colonel Sheppard and Major Lorne tumbled up the stairs into the control room. They were both still bruised and bandaged from that last desperate push against the machines, but they were moving.

"You can probably guess that we want to know exactly what has been going on," General Landry said. "What's your status?"

"All present and accounted for," Sam said with pride. The entire expedition had pulled together and come out on top. "Actually, we're plus one at the moment."

Across the control room, Sheppard elbowed Lorne in the ribs and Lorne glared back and Sam didn't bother to hide her smile.

"Plus one?" General Landry asked.

"Teyla Emmagen's child has been born, sir," Sam responded. "We're still rebuilding some critical systems here, but we have the Stargate and security back up and should be fully operational in three days."

"That's excellent," General Landry said. "Colonel Carter, when you are back up to full capacity, and if the city can spare you, I'd like you to return to Earth for a full briefing on your situation."

"Of course." Sam gestured at Chuck, who tapped on his laptop. "We're sending through a data burst with the information on the last six months."

"Excellent!" General Landry paused for a moment. "Is there anything you need immediately? Supplies, food..."

"Dr. Keller has a list of medical supplies that we need, which is included in the data burst," Sam said. "Other than that, we have enough food to last us until we restock fully on supplies."

Sheppard frowned at her. "Yeah, but could you maybe toss some coffee into the medical supplies?" he asked. "How about some chocolate?"

Lorne coughed pointedly.

"Oh, yeah, and there's a list of ammunition we could use," Sheppard amended. "Nothing on an emergency basis, but it'd be nice to use those P-90s against instead of the energy weapons that we MacGyvered out of the blasters and duct tape."

"Sending the data burst now," Sam said, cutting off Sheppard's ramble.

"Received," Sgt. Harriman said after a moment.

"We'll sign off," General Landry said. "I look forward to that full report, Colonel."

"Yes, sir." Sam felt hesitant to end the conversation, but she could almost hear Rodney McKay's rant about wasting power. "If I may ask, sir, if you got our message about the foothold situation, why did you dial us today?"

"Just in case we could get through," General Landry said. Sam could just picture the expression on his face. "Just in case."

* * *

Colonel Samantha Carter stepped back onto Earth soil on the fourteenth day of November, a little older and a little wiser and so very glad to be there. She'd always think of the SGC as home.

And after the six months under siege, she knew exactly which of her people thought of Atlantis as _home_.

At the bottom of the ramp stood SG-1, beaming in various capacities. Teal'c looked mildly happy, which for him was an extreme expression, while Daniel grinned and Mitchell rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and Vala hung on Daniel's arm and beamed.

Once she had walked down the ramp, Sam set down her bag and straightened to attention for General Landry up in the control room. He gave a nod, smiling a little.

"Welcome back, Colonel Carter," General Landry said over the loudspeaker. "We'll debrief in an hour, as soon as I see SGs Three through Five through the Gate."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied. General Landry went back to talking loudly at the technicians, and Sam turned her attention to her former team. "Hey guys," Sam said happily, feeling yet another little knot of tension relaxing in her stomach. This was her old team. She was home.

"Welcome back, Sam," Daniel said. Before, Sam would have left other greetings for a more private setting, but she had been a year in Atlantis, six months under a constant state of panic and alertness, and she couldn't bring herself to care all that much who was watching as she pulled Daniel into a brief embrace.

God, it was good to be home.

Vala wormed her way next in line, giving Sam a hug while still bouncing around. "We knew you weren't dead," Vala said without preamble. Behind her, Mitchell rolled his eyes loudly. "So, this new baby on Atlantis--"

"Vala--" Daniel tried to interrupt.

"It's not evil or fast-aging or anything? Because frankly, that's so old news."

"The baby's fine," Sam reassured the woman. Not that Sam blamed her for the questions. After the business with Adria, Sam privately had some similar thoughts about Teyla's baby. All unvoiced, of course.

Teal'c was next, regal and so tall, and a year away had made Sam forget how much presence the man had. He inclined his head and gave her a heartfelt smile. "Colonel Carter. It is good to see you safe."

"Thanks, Teal'c. You too."

Cam Mitchell straightened up and gave Sam a sparkling grin. "Good to have you back, ma'am." The formal wording didn't disguise the relief in his words.

"How are things around here?" Sam asked SG1's leader.

Mitchell relaxed. "We're fine. The world's fine, we're all fine."

"Now that you're back," Vala put in. "So what happened? Replicators? Wraith? Replicators that looked like Wraith? What a horrible thought."

"Repli-Wraith?" Daniel suggested.

"Or Wraithlicators," Vala said.

Sam gave Daniel a look. "What?" he asked innocently.

"It wasn't that at all," Sam said. She made a move towards her bag, but Mitchell had already picked it up. "I put all this in my message to the General, didn't you see it? When's the briefing?"

"In about an hour," Mitchell said. He led Sam out of the Gateroom, SG1 moving along with him as Sam knew it would. "General Landry thought you might like to settle in first, have a bite to eat, get your land legs back."

Around her, glances were exchanged. Sam hoped that this wasn't about to turn into a surprise welcome back party. She wasn't sure she could deal with that much noise.

"And while we all have a lot to catch up on," Daniel interjected smoothly, "There's someone you should talk to first. Proper chain of command."

"I thought you said that the chain of command didn't apply anymore in their case," Vala said in an undertone to Daniel. He nudged her arm with his elbow. Sam only had a moment to wonder what the hell they were talking about when they rounded the corner and Sam almost walked headlong into General Jack O'Neill.

He looked almost as surprised as Sam felt. "Hey," he said quickly.

Her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest, Sam automatically began to stand to attention in the presence of a superior officer but the glare in his eyes froze her in place. She settled on saying, "Sir."

"You're back early."

"Traffic was light over the Gate-bridge," Sam said without thinking, and was relieved to see the glint of humor in Jack's eye.

Around them, SG1 made excuses and faded into the background, Mitchell leaving Sam's duffle against the wall. Jack watched the team go. "Oh yeah, because that's subtle."

A little of the tension in Sam's head faded as she leaned against the concrete wall. Jack looked greyer around the edges, but other than that, he hadn't really changed. "How are things?" she asked.

Jack put his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "Pretty boring." He gave her the once-over, and Sam knew he was probably taking in the healing scars on her neck, the bruises on her temple, the dark circles under her eyes from too many months on little sleep. "I read your report to the Joint Chiefs."

Sam bit back a sigh. "What was the consensus?"

"Well, considering it's your first command and you managed to hold off an invading machine enemy for six months without losing a single man, the consensus is pretty much thumbs up." The lines in Jack's face relaxed slightly. "You did good, Sam."

 _I will not fall apart_ , Sam told herself sternly. Hearing such praise from Jack O'Neill might have knocked her to the ground any other day, and she wanted to scream at him that it hadn't been that easy; that the only reason they weren't all dead was that each and every person on Atlantis was brilliant and stubborn and refused to give up, not even for an instant. The only thing she had done was coordinate and hold them together, and in the grand scheme of things, that wasn't very much at all.

But there was that look in his eyes, the one that told her he knew exactly what she had done, what she was thinking, and that he wasn't saying these things as false praise.

"Want to grab some food?" Jack said while Sam mentally pulled herself back together. "Hank seconded one of the best military chefs out of Washington for the base about eight months ago. Seriously, the man can make the food down here almost taste good."

"Sure," Sam said, thanking every star in the sky that her voice didn't waver. "It's been about four months since I had actual meat. McKay managed to get the Ancient food synthesizers running. For the most part. They make everything taste like spray cheese."

Jack winced in sympathy.

* * *

After half an hour talking with Jack about all the useless stuff that had happened on Earth over the last year, Sam and Jack made their way from the commissary to the briefing room. Sam wasn't surprised to see SG1 scattered around the room, regardless of the fact that the matter didn't really concern them (that had never stopped her or Jack back in the day). Also present were a few Pentagon representatives. The IOA briefing would take place the next day, and Sam really wasn't looking forward to explaining herself to the UN representatives. But first things first. General Landry set everybody into their seats and the briefing began.

Three grueling hours later, Sam slumped back in her chair as General Landry sent the Pentagon representatives on their way, ladened with enough notes and intel to keep them busy for months.

Daniel set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Sam. "Thank you," she said, inhaling the fragrant steam. "The day we ran out of coffee was a dark day indeed."

"I can imagine," Daniel said. "How did you function?"

"Dr. Brown managed to modify the genetic code of a berry bush native to the Pegasus galaxy to mimic the structure of the coffee plant. The seeds have twice the caffeine content of terrestrial coffee.

"How does it taste?"

Sam made a face. "Like charred grapes."

Daniel shuddered. "Maybe you can take some coffee plant clippings back to Atlantis."

"How do you know what charred grapes tastes like?" Vala asked, leaning across the table.

"Elementary school science experiment." Sam sipped at the coffee. "I had to listen to McKay complain for almost three weeks straight about the taste."

An odd silence settled on the room. Sam glanced around. Daniel was avoiding her gaze, Mitchell looked like he was holding back a smile, and Jack was suddenly very interested in his briefing notes.

This last sight made Sam narrow her eyes. She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Jack O'Neill open the cover of the briefing notes, let alone actually read what was inside.

"What?" Sam demanded.

Daniel cleared his throat. "How much have you been working with Dr. McKay on recent scientific developments coming out of the SGC? Before the foothold situation, I mean."

"A little, I was pretty busy with running the city," Sam replied, wondering what this had to do with anything. "Mostly, it was listening to him go on about the new scientists on base and at the SGC."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Miss Gilmore, for starters." Sam gave Daniel her best glare, but after more than a decade, he was immune. "I admit, it's an unorthodox way to bring someone in to the department, especially with her lack of an appropriate educational background, but I've read her work and it's amazing. Has she come up with anything else in the last six months?"

"Oh, yes," Daniel said. He wasn't meeting Sam's gaze, which was never good.

"They granted her top secret security clearance last month," Mitchell added. "I think she spent a few days--"

"A whole week," Vala interrupted.

"--in the lab reading reports, and then she pulled some complex math out of the air that made Dr. Lee and the entire physics department weep."

"Math for what?" Sam knew there was something else, something missing from this conversation, but she didn't have enough clues to figure out and it was annoying.

"She had suggestions to make power usage from the Zero Point Module more efficient," Teal'c said. He folded his hands on the table and looked disturbingly amused. "Her suggestions will allow Stargate Command to more than double the lifespan of the power source."

More than _double_? Sam's mind raced with the possibilities. "Where is she?" Sam demanded. "How did she do that? What was her technique? Will--"

From the head of the table, General Landry held up his hand. "Miss Gilmore has been in Florida at a conference for the last five days," he said. "She's due back tomorrow morning."

"Wait, so she doesn't know that Atlantis isn't dead?" Vala interrupted. She frowned around the room. "That's rather unfair, don't you think?"

"The meeting is in the middle of a public conference center," Jack said. "It sort of defeats the concept of 'top secret space base' to send unencrypted messages."

Vala crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "I still say it's not very fair to Rory."

"She'll be back tomorrow and you can fill her in then," Jack said.

Sam had watched this interchange with more than a little confusion. "Why is Atlantis so important to Miss Gilmore?" she asked.

Again, the flicker of glances around the table. All eyes eventually landed on Jack. He groaned. "Fine. So, Carter, how do you like Gilmore's work?"

Sam wasn't sure what Jack was driving at, and his face gave nothing away. "It's brilliant," she said slowly. "If what Teal'c says about her work on the ZPM is right, then her contributions might well be... well, invaluable to both Atlantis and the SGC."

"So, the science is good?"

"Yes, the science is good," Sam said slowly.

"Invaluable, even?"

"Sir, what's going on?"

Jack clasped his hands together and held them out in front of him. "Just hold on to that thought, okay?"

"Sir?"

General Landry cleared his throat. "Miss Gilmore came to our attention due to her scientific work, but there was something that motivated her to begin working in this field."

Had everyone gone mad? Sam continued to stare at the General, wondering how much trouble she'd be in if she started banging her head against the table.

"Her father is a member of the Atlantis expedition."

Sam blinked. The phrase _so?_ was on the tip of her tongue, when her brain began to connect the dots in the conversation. But...

No.

That was impossible.

Jack mouthed the words _hold it_.

"Dr. Rodney McKay is Miss Gilmore's father."

Sam blinked again. And again. Then she began to grown concerned. "Sir, have you run Miss Gilmore's background for a possible hostile infiltration?"

"Yes, we have. She is who she says she is."

"She can't possibly be Rodney McKay's daughter!" The full impact of her own words hit her then, and the stunning impossibility swept politeness away. "First off, McKay doesn't have any children. Second, she's too old! She's nearly thirty, right?"

"She's twenty-five," Vala pushed into the conversation.

Sam's checklist stuttered to a halt. "She can't be twenty-five."

"In October," Vala said. "Why? Is her work not that mature?"

"Twenty-five?" Sam did some mental math and came up with even more incredulity. "That would mean Rodney was..."

"Sixteen," Daniel said with a hint of weariness.

Sam stared in horror.

"He doesn't know," Daniel said, probably under some delusion that he was helping. "Rory didn't know herself until last year when the man she thought was her father developed leukemia. A blood test revealed the truth as to paternity. Dr. Lam has done every medical test under the sun on Rory. There is no doubt that she's McKay's daughter."

Sam couldn't figure out what was the right thing to say, so she just let the words spill out of her mouth. "And she just _happened_ to suddenly appear on the SGC's doorstep after she found out?"

"General O'Neill brought her in," Vala said.

Sam whipped her head around to glare at Jack. He didn't look at all apologetic for _neglecting to mention this_. "She started doing some research on McKay's old papers," he said. "They needed someone to check her out."

"And they sent _you_?"

"Do you see?" Jack said to General Landry. "Yeah, they sent me."

"And?"

"And she's nuts. Well, was nuts," Jack amended. "She's too smart for her own good, but we can't figure out if it's natural or not. It looks like it."

"Wait, do you mean you suspect that her intelligence might not be natural?" Sam seized upon a point in the bizarre tale, something to cling to in the storm of confusion.

"She went from zero to McKay in less than a month." Jack's smile lost all humor. "She's terrifyingly brilliant, Carter. Worse than you." He paused on that one, made a face in apology, then went on. "She's been at it for less than nine months and she keeps blowing the scientists here and in Area 51 out of the water. Frankly, at this point, I don't care if she was born this way or if the Ancients zapped her brain, as long as she's working for us."

"How did the Ancients get into this?"

Jack jerked a thumb in Daniel's direction. "It was his idea."

Daniel had the grace to look uncomfortable. "It made sense at the time."

Sam looked back and forth between Jack and Daniel. Her mind ran in circles, not letting her accept what they were saying.

Rodney McKay had a _kid_? At the SGC?

Why did Sam think this was going to end badly?

* * *

"Are you going to drink that?"

Sam, buried in a base eight theoretical physics proof, grunted something meaningless. A hand snaked in front of her and deftly removed the coffee cup from her line of vision. Sam didn't care. The only thing she cared about were the pages scattered on the worktable in the lab.

The mathematics were, quite simply, miraculous. The ideas were presented clearly and matter-of-fact, but they encompassed a level of understanding far beyond what the scientists at the SGC were even close to comprehending.

Even Rodney McKay wouldn't have been able to come up with this. And the girl was only twenty-five? No wonder Daniel had suspected Ancient interference.

Sam looked up from the paper, blinking, to see Vala finishing the last drops from Sam's mug. "I was going to drink that," she protested mildly.

"I'll get you more." Vala tapped the papers with a forefinger. "So? Is it any good? The science?"

"Good?" Sam echoed. "Is it good? It's beyond good, it's brilliant! What I don't understand how a girl with no mathematics background goes from a journalism background to being this good, literally overnight. It's..." Sam stopped, at a loss for words.

Vala shrugged. "General O'Neill thinks that Rory went crazy, mostly because only crazy people would be able to think these things and not have their brains melt out their ears."

Sam made a mental note to give Jack a stern glare the next time she saw him.

"But the doctors have run every test they could on Rory's sanity, and she's unlikely to start boiling rabbits or leaving horse heads in beds any time soon." Vala gave Sam a wide smile. "Daniel also doubts she'll ascend."

Sam resisted the urge to put her head in her hands. It wasn't fair, to have yet another McKay swoop into the SGC and do fancy mathematics that left the other scientists in the dust. This made three of them so far.

 _Another McKay._ In her mind, Sam hadn't been able to keep from imagining what this McKay girl might be like. She'd be like Rodney, loud and confident of herself, smug in her brilliance, annoying to all around her but they'd have to put up with her because of the brilliance.

Sam knew that might not be the case; even Jeannie Miller hadn't been too bad, sort of like Rodney diluted. And with Canadian manners.

But still. Even knowing she was probably being unfair, Sam couldn't get over the mental image of a loud, bratty know-it-all.

"She promised to get me something from Disneyworld," Vala was saying, concentrating on braiding a lock of her hair. "She was threatening 'mouse ears', which isn't really nice, but since your leaders won't let me leave the base to go across country to a scientific conference where they are convinced I'd cause a scene--"

"Wait, Disneyworld?" Sam ran her mind back through the conversation she'd half-ignored. "Who's in Disneyworld?"

"Rory, for an afternoon." Vala abandoned her hair. "I've seen some of these 'Disney' movies with Teal'c and Daniel, but I just cannot see the appeal of a man-sized anthropomorphic mouse with no fashion sense. Give me Donald Duck any day. Or those talking warrior turtles."

Whatever Sam's commentary would have been on American animation would forever remain a mystery, for at that very moment a six-foot stuffed Donald Duck figure appeared in the open doorway, wedged in the frame.

Vala squealed when she saw the attacking doll. "You're back!"

"I'd have been down sooner but they had to run a million scans on Donnie here," said a very young voice. Donald backed up, and with some judicious shoving, he and his carrier maneuvered through the doorway. "I brought mouse ears for you, but Sgt. Hamilton, up at security point Alpha Nine, he told me his daughter broke her leg on the weekend and she's stuck at home for a week and he was telling me how she loves Mickey and so I sacrificed your mouse ears to the greater good."

Donald was shoved into the first convenient spot by the desk, and from behind him emerged a young woman totally unlike anything Sam expected. She was slender, with dark brown hair swept up into a messy ponytail and fairly casual clothes to be appearing at work at eight on a weeknight. As the woman, a girl really, dropped her bag on the worktable and held out her arms to Vala in a hug, Sam caught a glimpse of her face.

Brilliant blue eyes, looking so much like Rodney McKay and yet so very different.

"I thought you weren't getting back until tomorrow," Vala was saying, pulling back from the hug with the girl's bag in her hands. The girl either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I caught an earlier plane," the girl said. She looked curiously at Sam. "Hi, are you a friend of Vala?"

Vala paused in rooting through the bag. "Oops!" she said quickly. "I knew I forgot something. Rory Gilmore, Colonel Samantha Carter."

Rory went white. "From Atlantis?" she squeaked. "But the foothold situation--"

"All better," Vala interrupted. She unceremoniously shoved a chair under Rory before the girl's knees collapsed. "Everyone's just fine. We found out just after you left for the conference. We didn't have a chance to tell you, sorry."

Vala did sound honestly contrite, but Rory wasn't listening. Her wide blue eyes were fixed on Sam's face. "The people on Atlantis..."

"Everyone's fine," Sam said, and tried to smile reassuringly. "Everyone made it through in one piece."

"Including your erstwhile father," Vala said. She hopped onto the desk and resumed rummaging through Rory's bag. "Sam knows all about that. Although," Vala added in an unnecessary undertone, seeing as how Sam was _right there_ , "She didn't believe it at first. But no one else did, right?"

Rory shook her head, eyes wide as saucers. "But... the foothold situation, it's been six months and no word from anyone. Now it's over?"

Vala shrugged. "As far as they can tell."

Sam cleared her throat pointedly, and Vala hurriedly changed the topic. As well-versed as Ms. Gilmore was in Stargate Command secrets, her clearance level did not extend to full disclosure on the Pegasus Galaxy's latest threat.

"So, Rory," Vala went on, "Who's this with you and your mom?"

Rory glanced at the Polaroid photograph in Vala's hand. "That's April," she said automatically. "Luke's daughter."

"Hmm." Vala looked closely at the photo before handing it over to Sam. "You didn't say she'd be going down to Florida to meet you."

"April was in Star's Hollow for a week's break, and Mom brought her along for an afternoon in Disneyworld," Rory said. The tense set of her shoulders began to relax as Vala prodded her for information. "It was a last-minute decision."

Sam examined the photograph. Rory was on the left of the group, the Disney Castle in the background. In the middle was a young girl with brown hair and glasses, a half-eaten cotton-candy dangling from her hand. On the right was a tall, pretty woman. Rory's mother. The woman didn't look anywhere near old enough to have a twenty-five-year-old daughter. Sam couldn't fathom how a teenage Rodney McKay and this woman had... Her mind refused to go down that road.

And yet, it had happened somehow, because Rory Gilmore sat right in front of her, watching Sam with anxious eyes.

Sam made herself smile. "How was the conference?" she asked, handing back the photograph. Vala took it and continued digging trinkets out of Rory's bag.

"It was okay," Rory said tentatively. "I'm not used these sorts of things. I mean, I've covered political rallies and court cases, but just sitting and listening to people talk about physics was weird. Especially when I knew they were working on information that is so far out of date that it was positively retro." Her eyes darted away, just for a moment. "And some academics do react a certain way when they see the words 'United States Air Force' on the nametag."

"That's why Daniel stopped going," Vala said. She unearthed a chocolate bar and ripped open the plastic covering.

"Daniel stopped going to academic conferences because the establishment considered him a crackpot," Sam said, voice deliberately light. The corner of Rory's mouth twitched in a shy smile. "But he was right and he couldn't tell them, so he gave up going."

"Dr. Lee said something like that," Rory said. She sat straight, too formal for her appearance in jeans and a Magic Kingdom t-shirt under her navy blazer. "But Dr. Freyd sponsored me, and I did meet some nice people. And I got some work done during the presentations."

In spite of herself, Sam leaned forward. "Are you still working on the problems presented in this proof?" She pushed the base eight paper aside and pulled out another paper from the stack on the desk.

The girl's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes," she gushed, pulling a notebook out of the bag on Vala's lap. "There are issues in the underlying mathematics that have a basis in a fractal-spiral system, which might explain the use of the particular crystalline structure of the ZPM and might let us increase the efficiency of our power usage over what we've achieved so far."

"That's been tried before," Sam argued, ignoring Vala slipping out from the middle of the conversation. "Several times, by Dr. McKay, in fact."

"But you were looking at it all wrong," Rory said. There was none of the 'I told you so' Sam had expected from a McKay, and yet the certainty in her words was familiar. The girl handed her open notebook to Sam. "It's right here, the missing link in the mathematics to the problem."

Sam took the notebook and read the first few pages. Then she went back to the beginning and read it again. After a third review, she placed the notebook on the lab table, taking distant pride in the fact that her hands didn't shake at all. "Have you shown this to anyone?"

"No," Rory said uncertainly. "Is something wrong with it?"

"Do you have access to the Atlantis database information that was transferred to the SGC last year?" Sam continued, knowing the answer full well. Only nine people on Earth had access to the information, copied and sent to Earth as backup in case Atlantis was destroyed. Had Sam stayed at the SGC, she would have been the tenth person and final person in that chain.

Rory shook her head, wordlessly worried.

"Why?" Vala asked from the corner. "Did Rory think up something she wasn't supposed to again?"

Sam looked back down at the notebook, where the mixture of Earth numbers and letters jumbled around to echo the Ancients' elegant notes on the creation of ZPMs, information so highly classified that even on Atlantis, only Sam, Rodney McKay and Radek Zelenka knew it existed.

And this girl, like Rodney McKay but so impossibly different, had pulled the numbers out of thin air at a physics conference and spent the afternoon at Disneyworld with her mother.

Sam wondered if this was what a stroke felt like.

"Do the numbers work?" Rory asked again, and the moment passed and Sam obviously wasn't having a stroke and she had no idea what to say to this eager, anxious, brilliant child.

* * *

Sam devoured the latter half of her surf and turf dinner, mind only half on the first meat she'd had in months.

On the other side of the table, Jack sat back in the booth and watched her eat. Finally, he spoke. "You finished your nervous breakdown yet?"

"I'm not having a breakdown," Sam said, licking a bit of butter from her fork. "And don't tell me you didn't react the same way to her."

Jack shrugged. "I freaked out over more of the minor stuff." By tacit agreement, the conversation in this very public restaurant was being kept vague and detail free. Sam had already spent three hours explaining in excruciating detail to General Landry and General O'Neill how very impossible Rory Gilmore's latest mathematical revelation had been. The argument had ended in a temporary cease-fire when Jack had brought up that at the SGC, everyone was contractually obligated to believe in six impossible things before breakfast.

Sam squished an edge of roasted potato under her knife. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, I know," Jack said. His eyes gleamed in the dim light from the bar. "So, do you want her?"

Sam froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"The powers that be on the oversight committee are strongly recommending that she work outside of headquarters," Jack said obliquely. "If you think you can stand having two McKays working for you."

Sam's fork clattered to the plate. "You can't be serious."

Jack lifted his eyebrows in that familiarly infuriating manner. "Don't you think she'd be of any use?"

"Of course, but--" Sam stopped before she committed herself. Having someone who could independently recreate Ancient knowledge would be of extreme value to the Atlantis expedition, especially after the siege of the past six months, but Sam knew better than to believe in good things.

And Rory Gilmore was too much of a good thing.

Sam tried a different angle. "I can't accept that she got to where she did today without any... help."

Jack tapped on the edge of his plate with his knife. "She told us about that."

"I know she did, but..." Sam wasn't sure how to explain herself. Sure, yes, advances in understanding the fractal properties of crystals had been made by humanity. The underlying physics for the ZPMs were also well-known at the SGC. In fact, taken separately, most of Ms. Gilmore's revelations had some background basis in Earth science.

But it was those last little facts, those leaps of intuition on putting it all together _when no one had before_ , which set Sam's teeth on edge. No one else could have done it, not Sam, not even Rodney McKay, who was still humanity's leading physicist on these matters, no matter how damned smug he was about the fact.

"There's just this voice in the back of my head that really doesn't like this," Sam finished.

"Hearing voices now?" Jack joked, but the words weren't a dismissal. He had heard what she wasn't able to say in such an unsecured location.

Sam sighed. Suddenly, all the meat in her stomach felt heavy. "So what do we do now?"

"It's your command," was all Jack said.

It wasn't an answer, but at the same time, it was.

"Just great," Sam said under her breath. For the good of the expedition, she didn't have a choice and she knew it.

Jack beamed. "Great! Who wants cheesecake?"

* * *

Sam arrived back in Atlantis two days later, laden with enough coffee beans to buzz the entire base and a post-UN-briefing hangover that no amount of aspirin would help.

What greeted her was probably to be expected, but still, walking into a room filled with the sounds of jack hammering didn't help the headache in the least.

John Sheppard slumped across the floor to Sam's side, turning a deaf ear on the repair crew. "How was Earth?" he asked after a perfunctory nod.

"Fine." Sam shoved her briefcase in Sheppard's direction. "The Joint Chiefs and IOA want more detailed reports. Lots of them." She smiled.

Sheppard took the case gingerly as if it might blow up. "Good," he said insincerely. "Major Lorne has been bored."

Sam made a noise that most certainly was not a laugh. "How is everything?"

"Fine, fine." Sheppard's eyes strayed over Sam's shoulder to the repair crew. "Repairs continue, and the defense systems are up to eighty percent. What about our resupply request?"

"Everything will be coming through the Gate." Sam winced as a loud metallic _thunk_ sounded through the din behind her. "Along with some more personnel."

"Military?" Sheppard's brief interest faded when Sam shook her head.

"A scientist or two." She paused, steeling herself for what must come next. "Have you seen McKay?"

Sheppard's answer was rendered unnecessary as McKay and Zelenka wandered down the steps. McKay's rapid monologue never faltered as he passed Sam, talking the whole time about the city's energy requirements and now they were burning power at an alarming rate and hadn't he _said_ this was a danger and why the hell didn't anyone ever listen to him?

Sam watched his retreating back, and told herself that had been a perfect opportunity for her to tell the man that he had a daughter who would be coming to work in Atlantis in a month, a lovely young lady who was suspiciously brilliant, so get ready for it.

Instead, she turned to Sheppard. "How are Teyla and the baby?" she asked.

There would be plenty of time to tell McKay about Rory Gilmore. Later. And it wasn't cowardice at all that held her tongue.

As they were in the Pegasus Galaxy, she didn't look out the window in case there really were flying pigs on the other side of the glass.


	12. Night of the Living Dread

Vala slipped through a herd of Marines and emerged on the other side of the corridor beside little miss Rory Gilmore. Vala followed Rory into the elevator and waited until they were headed deeper into the mountain to ask, "Who's winning?"

Rory never lifted her eyes from her papers. "Colonel Darsen, in the chemistry lab with the acetone."

"And here I had all my money on Dr. Freyd in the Gateroom with a ZPM," Vala lamented. She thrust her hand in her pocket and emerged with a handful of linty mints. "Candy?"

Rory made a face. "I'm not sure that's the kind of fiber the FDA wants us to add to our diet," she said as the elevator doors opened. "Why are you down here? Are you coming to my final scientific briefing with the General?"

Vala shook her head, picking lint from a mint. "Daniel is in the middle of working on something... somewhere," she said. "As much as I'm going to miss you in Atlantis, darling, I wouldn't sit through a science briefing for all the tea in China."

"You don't like tea," Rory pointed out.

"For all the Smirnoff in Russia?"

Rory laughed, a startled happy sound that Vala had not heard enough in the last few months. And now, Rory was going to leave the _galaxy_ for Atlantis and Vala was going to be left behind. Again. This sort of thing always happened when she made a friend; they would pack up their things and leave. At least she still had Daniel and Mitchell and Teal'c, which was solely an observation and not any kind of sappy emotional lamentation.

"Are you still going home afterwards?" Vala asked, bounding ahead of Rory up the stairs.

"I think so," Rory said. "Unless the General needs me to do any extra work before I leave for Atlantis."

Vala emerged into the briefing room to find General Landry and Mitchell leaning stiffly around the briefing table. Sure, Mitchell called that pose the 'military parade lounging', but Vala refused to attribute the word 'lounge' to anything a person did while vertical.

General Landry broke off his side of the conversation when he spotted Vala. "You're early for the briefing, Vala," he said with a hint of humor in his voice. "All of that hanging around Ms. Gilmore finally starting to rub off on you?"

"I sincerely hope not," Vala said with a grimace. She hopped up onto the table beside Mitchell. "Don't tell me you're becoming an ego-head."

Mitchell sighed. "That's 'egg-head'," he corrected.

"I don't know, I like ego-head," Rory said shyly. For some reason that Vala could not torment out of her, Rory was still inexplicably hesitant around General Landry.

"Ooh, or Eggo-head," Vala added.

"Would that make someone a waffle brain?" Mitchell tossed in with a grin. Rory blushed and Vala added one more weapon to her 'Tease Rory' arsenal, the girl's minor crush on Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell.

Vala said to the General, "Are you going to be mean and keep Rory here instead of going home to see her mother?"

"No, Ms. Gilmore is free to go home for a few days before the personnel move out to Atlantis," General Landry said. "As long as she manages to stay out of casinos."

"It wasn't my fault that we were arrested in Las Vegas," Vala protested. "Blame Daniel and his paranoia!"

"It wasn't his idea for us to stay in the hotel that looked like a pyramid," Rory reminded her. "And you were the one acting suspicious around the roulette table."

"Only because you were ignoring me while you were breaking the bank at the black jack table." Vala sighed wistfully. "I still don't see why they were so mad at you for counting cards. Isn't that the point?"

Mitchell coughed. "Rory wasn't counting cards, Vala, she's just got good luck at gambling."

"It wasn't luck, I was just playing the odds on when to fold," Rory told him. "And I gave most of the money back to the casino and they decided to forget we were there." She was smiling, though. "It's been a while since the cops came to break up one of my birthday parties. I was the talk of the school in grade three."

"Grade three?" Mitchell repeated.

"The cops arrested the clown and then the fire department had to come to get me and Lane down out of the church roof. Mom got one of the firefighter's phone numbers and I still have to hear about it at Thanksgiving."

"Sounds like loads of small-town American fun," Vala said pointedly. She was not scowling. That would have been immature and sulky, two things that Vala was certainly not, thank you.

"It's home," Rory said. She placed her papers on the briefing table and adjusted them very straight. Glancing up at the General, Rory began, "I know it might not be possible, sir, but..."

"Yes?" the General prompted, not unfriendly under his gruffness.

"I mean, things around here are going to be slow for a few days," Rory said, her eyes wide and innocent. "Would it be okay if Vala came with me to Connecticut?"

After nine months of being around Rory Gilmore, not much surprised Vala anymore. But still, whenever Rory brought out the 'cute and adorable little girl' face, Vala was amazed how people fell for it. Well, not 'fall', Vala mentally amended. But perhaps were weakened by it. Like by radiation poisoning, or low blood sugar.

General Landry glanced at Mitchell and surprised the hell out of Vala by saying, "Sure."

Vala sprang off the table, tripping over Mitchell in the process. "I can go?" she demanded, not believing she'd understood.

"Yes, yes," the General said irritably. "You're free to have a few days of leave, after all this time on post."

"But you do realize that I'll be gone without military escort," Vala said. "No Daniel hiding in the trunk or Mitchell in the closet."

"Why am I stuck in the closet?" Mitchell asked, but he was ignored.

"I am aware of what I'm saying," the General said. He made a shooing motion at Vala and Mitchell. "If Ms. Gilmore can put up with you for a few days, that's her call."

Rory grinned widely as she caught at Vala's sleeve. "You can come to Stars Hollow!" she exclaimed.

"Excellent!" Vala slung an arm over the girl's shoulders and hugged her quickly sideways. "You can explain all about these insect customs on the plane."

"Insects?" Rory asked, then shook her head. "Not 'wasps," Vala, the acronym is W.A.S.P. White Anglo-Saxon Protestants."

Vala dismissed the explanation. "Maybe I'll ask Daniel for a guidebook," she mused as other white coats began to drift into the room. "But don't you leave without me!"

"Of course not," Rory promised. She turned back to her papers as Mitchell and Vala headed out of the room, narrowly missing more scientists.

Vala made it as far as the control room before she caught Mitchell's arm. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Mitchell hitched his shoulders in that annoying way he had, which he only did when he was trying to be sneaky and subtle. "The General just wants you to have some time off, that's all."

Vala glared at him with all the withering contempt she usually reserved for the Goa'uld. "The last time I asked to leave the base without you or Daniel, he told me it'd be a cold day in hell."

Mitchell shrugged. "You know, there is this global climate change thing--" He danced back as Vala's hand sailed through the air, narrowly missing his arm. "No beating up your commanding officer!"

"Says who?"

Their 'conversation' was beginning to turn heads in the rest of the control room. "There's regulations somewhere," Mitchell shot back. "Can't you just go along with this?"

Vala narrowed her eyes. "This isn't about me at all, is it?"

Mitchell motioned with his head and they escaped into the hallway, away from the insatiable gossips that inhabited the control room. "It's sort of complicated," Mitchell said in a low voice that was probably supposed to be confidence inspiring or something.

Vala didn't buy it. Cam Mitchell was many things; buff, brave, and adorable in dress blues. One thing he was not, however, was versed in the arts of subtlety. "Do you think something might happen to Rory? Is that why you're letting me go with her?" she asked.

Mitchell pursed his lips while he thought of an answer. Vala rolled her eyes. She didn't have the time for this.

"Here's the deal, sunshine," she said. "I'll go with Rory and keep an eye out and if anything happens, I'll call you and you can ride in, blasters blazing."

"There's not going to be any need for calling out the cavalry," Mitchell protested.

"So why the big deal? Who could possibly want to hurt Rory?"

Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest, hunching towards Vala to keep the conversation private. "McKay junior is quite possibly the smartest brain Earth has on its side right now," he said in a low voice. "The General wants someone to keep an eye out for her. Someone who has experience in looking over their shoulder."

"Rory is Earth's last, best hope," Vala said.

"Yes."

"And you're sending her to another galaxy."

Mitchell looked confused. Adorable, true, but confused. "Yeah, so?"

Vala looked to the heavens and prayed for some external guiding source to gift her with patience in working with these foolish Earthers. "Fine, I'll go with Rory and be the beauty and brawn to her brains."

"Good." Mitchell gave Vala a soldierly pat on the shoulder. "Don't get into too much trouble."

Vala waited until Mitchell was almost to the end of the hallway before shouting after him, "I expect hazard pay for this!"

"Talk to me about it when you get back!" Mitchell called, passing Daniel at the bend in the corridor.

Daniel twisted around, almost losing his handful of papers, looking first after Mitchell, then switching his befuddled glassy gaze to Vala. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Vala beamed ear to ear. "Bat country," she said, sauntering towards Daniel. "Don't stop the car."

Daniel went back the way he came.

* * *

Vala put down her duffle bag on the curb and took a deep breath. So this was small-town America. Gods, she was already bored.

Rory tucked her wallet back into her bag before joining Vala on the curb. The taxi's red taillights faded into the darkness, leaving Rory and Vala the only two apparent occupants in the town square. Dry leaves blew across the pavement, skittering over the playground, moving in time with the empty swings. Vala had seen cheerier worlds after the Ori had left. "Nice place you've got here," she observed.

"Where is everyone?" Rory wondered. "Come on, let's go to Luke's." The girl picked up her suitcase and moved across the street towards a brightly lit and seemingly empty diner.

Vala followed, suddenly regretting leaving her smuggled zat gun at the bottom of her duffle. Things were strange in this little town, and the one motto that Vala lived by was that strange was only good when Vala was the one making things strange.

So that wasn't really her motto, but good words to heed, if one could remember the general meaning under fire.

Rory stopped on the diner's front step, her hand halfway extended to the door handle. She had gone pale in the sickly light of the overhead street lamps. Vala looked at the diner again. This must have been the diner where Rory worked, before Jack O'Neill had found her and brought her to her proper place at the SGC. Vala still wasn't sure about status in the non-military parts of Earth, but from what she had gleaned from prodding Daniel with a stick, a smart person who had graduated from college and who worked in menial labor was considered a disappointment.

As someone who had worked as a waitress in a diner for a few weeks, Vala thought this view was utter trash.

Still, Vala supposed that Rory might have internalized said trash, and would need a little moral support to walk through that door. "Do you think they've been eaten by zombies?"

Rory turned startled eyes on Vala. "I-- huh?"

"Zombies." Vala gestured around the empty town with its shuttered shops. "Do you think we're in the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse?"

"What do you know about zombies?" Rory asked, a smile starting over her face. The expression was quickly wiped away. "Oh god, are there actual _zombies_ up there?"

"Of course not," Vala said. "At least not the ones that eat brains."

Rory glanced over Vala's shoulder at the deserted town. "I can't believe we're having a conversation about zombies on Luke's front doorstep."

"You're right." Vala poked Rory in the arm. "Brain-eating-zombies are a topic best had over burgers."

"Luke makes the best zombie burgers in the state," Rory said. She led the way into the diner, a lovely place that smelled of fresh coffee and delicious food, with hardware signs covering the walls in a distinctly anachronistic way. Vala thought the place quirky. Knowing that Rory had pretty much grown up in this diner explained so much.

"Be out in a minute," called a gruff male voice from the depths of the kitchen. "Sit wherever."

Rory placed her suitcase beside the counter, shaking and pale again. Had she really thought how to explain her leaving? So much of Rory's time in the past two weeks had focused on wrapping up her work at the SGC, not to mention finishing something called 'orals' at the university, something Vala had supposed wasn't nearly as fun as it sounded, as Rory had been a sleepless wreck for days before and after.

And now Rory was back at home, in the same place she'd been before all of the excitement of the SGC. Vala probably knew Rory best of all the people in the SGC, but sometimes she didn't understand the younger woman at all.

Maybe that was because the girl didn't know herself, not amid the whirl of knowledge and new discoveries stampeding through her brain. How often had Vala seen Rory surprise herself with some new discovery or observation? It wasn't the McKay influence, or the science, but a fundamental confusion at work within her.

As if Rory had changed in ways that even Rory didn't realize.

A burly man in a baseball cap and a flannel shirt rumbled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Rory.

"Hi Luke," the girl said, giving him the first honest smile Vala had seen on her in _weeks_.

The man threw his rag on the counter and rushed Rory, sweeping her up into a hearty hug. "When did you get here?" he asked. He pulled back to give Rory the once-over, managing to look both startled and ecstatic at the same time. "They didn't kick you out of the Air Force, did they?"

That would be the day, Vala thought, perching on a bar stool. Considering the investment the U.S. Air Force had in keeping Rory Gilmore in their employ, the girl's corpse probably wouldn't be getting out of the SGC morgue until three years after her death.

"No, I just have a bit of leave. I mean, time off," Rory said. "It's good to see you again."

"It's been seven months," Luke said. "Your mom didn't tell me you were coming home."

Rory stepped away, twisting her hands together behind her back in one of thirty-seven nervous gestures Vala had catalogued through months of observation. This one Vala had classed as the 'I am keeping things from my mother and it makes me feel like an insect' hand-wringing, just slightly different from 'I just blew up a million-dollar piece of equipment and don't think I'll be able to blink my way out of this one'. The difference was all in the wrist.

"Mom didn't know I was coming," Rory was saying. "I tried to call her at home and on her cell, but there was no answer. I left messages. Also at the Inn, but Michel's pretending he doesn't speak English today and he refused to understand my 'Colonial accent'."

Luke waved his hand. "Paul Anka dropped Lorelai's cell in the sink a few days ago. She's at a business meeting in Hartford all day. She was even going to miss the town meeting."

Understanding dawned on Rory's face. "So that's why the town looks as if it's been decimated by the T-Virus." She turned to Vala. "I've told you about town meetings, right?"

"Ineffective briefings run by a cardiganed megalomaniac who runs the grocery during daylight hours?" Vala smiled at Luke. "I hear that he's your neighbor."

"Yeah, Taylor," Luke agreed. "And you are..."

"Oh, right," Rory said. "Luke, this is Vala Mal Doran, a friend from Colorado. Vala, this is Luke."

"And who else could you be?" Vala asked, holding out her hand to Luke. He was sort of dopy-looking when he was confused, rather like some of the thicker-skulled Jaffa she'd known. "Rory has told me all about you."

"Right." Luke stuck his hands in his pockets, awkward now and uncertain. "Lorelai said she'd be coming by the diner after her meeting, seeing as how I'm stuck here until eleven. Do you want to wait?"

"Actually, maybe we can sneak into the town meeting?" Rory suggested, glancing Vala's way. "It's part of that East Coast Americana you wanted to see. We'll be back after."

"Sounds good," Luke said quickly. "You go and watch. Watching is good."

Vala raised an eyebrow in the man's direction, which he missed but Rory caught and oh, the glare she sent Vala. "We'll be back for burgers later on," Rory promised Luke. "And if Mom comes in, tell her to come crash the party."

"Will do."

Rory pushed her suitcase and Vala's duffle behind the counter and fairly danced out the door, Vala in her wake. They crossed the deserted streets and headed in the direction of a large low hall, so similar to those Vala had seen off-world that it sent a twinge of familiarity down her spine. How many times had she narrowly escaped death in a building just like this?

"How do I look?" Rory asked, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "Do I look okay?" Her dark navy suit and pumps looked wildly out of place in this hall. The clothing was better suited to the going-away briefing she'd had with the Joint Chiefs and IOA reps, where she had dazzled the military men with her smile and understanding of the tactical situation in Pegasus, and deftly handled the egos of the scientists by understanding their research, and had caused Mitchell to mutter under his breath, "That kid's got what it takes."

"Good enough to sell to Bastet," Vala said in a twist of a phrase from her childhood. "Why are you worrying?"

"Because I know these people."

As explanations went, Rory had done better. "Because you knew these people when you were crazy?" Vala tried to stay calm. She was so much better at dealing with Earth culture now, and it wasn't like she was walking into Baal's camp alone. It was just a group of humans who were most likely unarmed and uninterested in sacrificing her to their gods. "You look darling. Stop worrying."

A nervous smile hovered on Rory's lips. "I'm being silly, that's all."

Vala patted Rory's arm. "I know."

The back door of the hall eased open under Rory's touch and the two women stepped in out of the cold. The hall was crowded with strangers, reinforcing Vala's unease. At least there were no large fire pits into which to throw the victim.

The man on the platform droned on, but a few people in the back rows turned around to see the latecomers. Whispers spread out like ripples and by the time Rory and Vala had taken seats by the wall, people were craning in their seats to see Rory.

Finally, the man at the front realized that no one was listening to him. "Honestly, people, what could be more important than a discussion of the town snow-removal budget?"

"Catching up on my sleep?" a capped man in the front row suggested. The plump woman beside him smacked his arm.

"Rory's back, Taylor!" the woman chimed, and the room assented.

"She's so populaaaar," Vala said _sotto voce_ to Rory. The girl blushed, but was smiling.

"And?" Taylor asked, leaning down over his podium. "Would you like me to stop the meeting so you can all say hello?"

A small dark-haired woman popped to her feet. "Would you? Thanks!"

Taylor glared her down. "We are not going to stop the meeting! We've got seven more line-items to discuss in the budget!"

A muted roar rose in the hall. Taylor held up his hands, but it was no good. "Speech!" someone shouted, and the room took up the cry. Vala turned an amused glance on Rory, who by now was crimson.

"It was your idea to visit home," Vala said pointedly.

Still bright-red, Rory stood to a two-person cheer. "It's, um, good to be back," she said when the chanting stopped. "The place looks really good. So do all of you." She paused. "And Luke's will be open after the meeting." Another two-person cheer. "Thank you, I'm here until Saturday. Please tip your server."

Vala didn't understand the roar of laughter, but that was par for the course with most of what Rory said, and she joined in the applause as Rory seated herself. Vala nudged Rory in the side. "That was interesting," Vala said quietly as Taylor took up the meeting again.

"Welcome to my town," Rory said, a flush remaining on her cheeks. "I'd forgotten how much I miss this."

Vala gave Rory's hand a quick squeeze. Nothing in the galaxy would be able to keep Rory Gilmore from Atlantis, but for the first time it seemed as if Rory was realizing what she would be leaving behind.

The standing dark-haired woman had worked her way through the crowd and squeezed onto the bench on the other side of Rory. The two girls hugged and squealed quietly and hugged again, totally ignoring Taylor. "What are you doing here?" the stranger asked. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming home?"

Rory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, in the Rory Gilmore 'My new life of being the most brilliant person in the galaxy doesn't mesh with my former life of being a journalist and I feel awkward' nervous gesture number four, and shrugged with one shoulder. "It was a bit of a surprise to me as well. I had to come home before-- I wanted to get a chance to come home." She tried to cover her flustered state by gesturing over her shoulder at Vala. "This is Vala. She's a friend from the office. Vala, this is Lane."

"It's nice to meet you," Vala said with a small nod of the head. The young woman was less sanguine, staring at Vala in a guarded way.

"Hi," Lane said quietly. She looked between Vala and Rory. Vala, knowing raised hackles when she saw them, sat back and pretended to listen to Taylor blather on about money.

Rory and Lane resumed their conversation, and Vala drifted in and out of attention, instead looking around the hall (old wood and much-patched beams) and the people (bundled up and slow and not a warrior's bearing amongst them) and the clothing (never in a hundred years would Vala understand Earth fashions, and that was SG-1's one area of blanket agreement). She wished people were at least standing up and milling about; she'd have been able to practice her pick-pocketing.

The words from the front of the hall caught her attention a split second after Rory tensed at Vala's side. Vala almost went for her non-present sidearm. Rory was absolutely frozen, tension screaming through still limbs, her bright blue eyes fixed on Taylor at the front of the room.

The only other time Vala had seen Rory go so still had been on Rory's one off-world mission with SG-1, just moments before a mothership appeared on the horizon. She'd later claimed she'd heard the engines, and for all Vala knew that was the truth, but the snake-like stillness in the girl set Vala's heart pounding with adrenaline.

"--will have to cancel the Memorial Day fireworks and festivities next May," Taylor was saying, and the few people who were awake enough to hear him sent up a round of 'boos'. "People, the budget only goes so far and if you want to have the bonfire next year, funds need to be reallocated--"

"Sacrificed," Rory said quietly, her voice normal but she hadn't moved a muscle and Vala was beginning to wonder if there was something Mitchell hadn't mentioned when he sent her to watch _(out for? over?)_ Rory.

"--and we have the Snow festival in a month and the outdoor ice rink isn't going to pay for itself!"

"Come on, Taylor, there's got to be the money somewhere!" said a tiny curly-headed woman with a grating voice.

"Yeah, canceling Memorial Day is just uncool," contributed the man beside her.

Taylor huffed and puffed behind his podium. "To have even the most basic of celebrations, with appropriate permits and everything, would cost five thousand dollars that we don't have."

"At least he's not canceling Christmas again," Lane said, but Rory didn't seem to hear her friend. Voices suggested other public holidays to cancel, but not very enthusiastically.

The previous Memorial Day had been Vala's third on Earth, and she knew how to act at the memorial service in the Gateroom for the members of the SGC who had been killed and injured in the line of duty. She'd known what to wear (that demure black dress Sam had bought her the year before) and where to stand (between Teal'c and Daniel, with Mitchell by the Generals at the Gate) and that there was nothing for her to say on that day. Any other day of the year, she would have questioned or pestered or maneuvered a hasty exit, but remembering the dead was a ceremony known across humanity, and one that even a loner like Vala understood, more so now that she had worked with the young men and women of Earth who had died in protection of their fellows and their world.

Rory stood by Vala and Daniel and Teal'c on that day, and Vala knew the girl had been shaken by some realization, but she hadn't asked and Rory hadn't explained, just followed Vala and Daniel around like a lost puppy until Daniel joined Mitchell and Vala escaped to the rec room where Teal'c had holed up, and they all watched children's movies in silence until the day was over and the Earthers had a chance to properly grieve their dead.

And then Vala understood. Rory wasn't listening for alien fire, she was suddenly, blindingly angry.

As the arguments wore down, and Taylor told everyone that it was all for the best, Rory carefully extracted a checkbook from her bag and wrote something on the paper. This she folded over four times and handed to Lane. "Can you give this to Taylor after the meeting's over?" she whispered. "I have to get out of here."

"Sure, I guess," Lane said. "If you're going to be around tomorrow, do you want to come over? We can catch up, for old times' sake."

Rory nodded, smile brittle. She stood and Vala followed, sneaking out the back door as if they had never been there.

Outside, Rory walked past the playground, across the road, through the square and up the steps of a white wooden pavilion. Vala followed, not knowing if there was anything to say.

The sharp sound of Rory's shoes on the wood echoed around the empty square. Vala perched on the railing and waited.

After the third circuit, Rory crossed her arms over her chest in an expression of 'I can't deal with this but I have to and I'm freaking out'. "You can go back in if you're cold," she said.

"I'm fine." Vala rested her elbows on her knees and watched the girl pace off the nervous energy. "What did you do in there?"

Rory sat down on the steps. "It's been a long time since I've been back here," she said. "I guess I forgot some things, that's all."

"Like what?" Vala asked as she joined Rory on the steps. The trick in situations like this was to get Rory talking, for once the torrent started there was no holding it back.

"Just the usual rigaramole about festivals. Almost every year, one holiday or the other gets shafted and people grumble and then things move around the next year. It's just the way things go."

Vala shifted her gaze from the stars to Rory; the girl's eyes were huge in her pale face and there was _something_ in her expression, one of those things about her that Vala could see from here until the end of the time and never understand. "But this year is different?"

The lights from a billion dying stars reflected in Rory's eyes. "It just wasn't right. I suppose I should say something about how being home reminds me of some small-town American hero who died in the line of duty at the Mountain, but... Do you remember Major Wu?"

"With the Marines?" Vala asked, even though she already knew exactly who, and why, Rory was talking about this.

"He was from San Diego, and he always scared the living daylights out of me," Rory said. Her eyes slid across the skies. "And I don't think he liked very many people, and he really didn't like civilians going out with his team, and... well, you know how he died."

Vala did. SG-16, Major Wu's team, had been trying to evacuate the scientists at one of the off-world posts when that system's version of mercenaries descended with guns blazing. The man had fallen back to give his team some cover to get the scientists out.

They'd made it.

He hadn't.

"I didn't grow up around people who would do something like that," Rory said, more quietly now. "They're not bad people, just different. I'd forgotten how different."

Vala hugged her knees to her chest, shivering a little in the late November cold. "Wu wasn't fond of civilian celebrations of military anniversaries."

"He wasn't." Rory closed her eyes. "He had five kids, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"His wife's taken the family back to San Diego to be around her parents."

Vala watched Rory, and wondered about the sudden interest in a dead Marine, especially one who Rory had gone out of her way to avoid. "Who told you that?"

"Cam."

The pieces clicked into place. "Was that before or after they asked you to uproot your life and take the assignment at Atlantis?"

Rory sighed. "What do you think?"

"I think you're freaking out over if you made the right choice. Don't get me wrong, the life is glamorous and exciting and full of dashing young soldiers, but I can understand not wanting to leave the security of a world where the most dangerous thing that might happen is you eat a bit of suspect cow."

"Suspect beef."

"What?"

Rory rubbed her temples for the hundredth time that week. "You eat beef. You milk a cow."

"And there's another thing, there's no beef or cow in Atlantis. What's wrong with your head?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing nothing, or nothing 'give me an aspirin before my head explodes' nothing?"

Rory sighed. "Middle ground," she admitted.

Vala reached into a pocket on Rory's bag and pulled out a handful of tiny pill bottles. "Does Dr. Lam know how many pretty painkillers you have?"

Rory plucked a bottle from Vala's hand. "She prescribed most of them, so yes," Rory said. She tipped a tiny white pill onto her palm and swallowed it dry. "It's just stress from the flight."

"Have you had any more nosebleeds?" Vala demanded. If Mitchell knew Rory was having more migraines and hadn't told Vala, she was going to glue his butt to the Stargate.

"Nothing like that." Rory shook her head. "I'm fine, Vala." She took the rest of the bottles from Vala's hands and shoved them back into her bag. "I should eat something before the pill melts my liver."

Rory stood and walked across the square in the direction of the diner. Her posture was no longer defiant as it had been in the hall. Rory telegraphed exhaustion and pain in the defeated set of her shoulders, the slow pace of her steps, not that she would ever admit it.

Unease pooled in Vala's stomach as she followed Rory. She wanted Daniel, to be there to deftly manhandle a defeated Rory out of her funk and back to herself, something the man had done over a dozen times since Rory's arrival in Colorado. He'd given up his apartment off-post to ground Rory, he'd told her stories all night more than once as she was coming down from a science-induced paranoid high, he'd arranged that birthday trip to Las Vegas, and when it came down to Rory's choice to go to Atlantis, Daniel helped her make a ten-page pro-con list and kept her honest about it. Rory Gilmore had become Daniel Jackson's pet project in her nine months at the SGC, and Vala didn't think either of them realized it.

Vala wished he was there now.

Luke was wiping a counter in the diner when Rory and Vala stepped through the door. "That was fast."

Rory slipped into a chair, touching the chipped plastic on the tabletop. "It's budget night," she said.

"I could have told you that." He brought over a couple of menus. "Hungry?"

"Starved," Vala said, because she was used to talking for Rory when the girl's mind was a million miles away. "Like I could eat a beef."

"A horse," Rory said absently.

"I thought you said beef was cow."

"The saying is that you're so hungry you could eat a horse."

"But Daniel said no one in this country eats horses."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Ladies and gentleman, my life." She turned her head to give Luke a wan smile. "Can I get a bacon cheeseburger with cheese fries and onion rings, please?"

"Sure thing," Luke said. He squeezed Rory's shoulder. "And I'll set some pie aside for after. It's Cesar's special strawberry lime surprise."

"I'll have the same thing," Vala said. "And double for the pie."

"Coming up." Luke drifted away across the diner to the kitchen.

As soon as Luke vanished, Rory got up. "I'm going to go freshen up," she said to a spot three feet over Vala's head. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"When are you the one saying stuff like that?"

"Well, don't get caught doing it."

Vala looked around the vacant diner. "I'll try my best."

Rory walked off, shoulders still set in pain, and Vala tried to concentrate on the rumbling of her stomach and not on her unease. Rory hadn't acted like this... well, since she'd come back from Connecticut the last time. Vala could understand not getting along with family, but this wasn't like that at all. Rory had seen her mother in Florida a few weeks before and hadn't been ripped to mental shreds.

Maybe Vala should have insisted Daniel come along, after all.

Rory's bag began to vibrate. Absently, Vala dug out the girl's silently ringing Blackberry. Vala hit the little green button. "Hello?" she said in her best Rory impersonation.

"Uh, hey, it's Cam. How's the trip so far?"

Vala raised her eyebrows. Mitchell was calling Rory? Off the clock? Oh, how very interesting. "It's just fine," Vala continued. She giggled. "And how are _you_ , Cam?"

There was a pause on the line. Then Mitchell swore. "Damn it, Vala..."

"What do you expect me to say?" Vala demanded in her normal voice. "You just do such fascinating things."

"This is why I never call you off-hours," Mitchell grumbled. "I called to see how Rory was doing."

"She's got a headache and as of the end of the hour, she'll have shamed a hall full of New Englanders into submission."

"That's bad and... good?" Mitchell cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You can explain why you really called." Vala looked up to see Luke standing over the table and scowling. He was pointing at a sign that read 'No Cell Phones.' Vala pulled the phone away from her face. "It's okay, it's not my phone."

"What?" Mitchell said.

"Nothing. I'll tell Rory you called to check up on her."

"Vala--"

"Bye!" Vala hung up in time to see Rory appear from around the corner. "Your secret Air Force boyfriend says hi."

"Who is that?" Rory asked. Luke put a cup of coffee on the table in front of Rory and received a grateful smile. "Thanks." He nodded and headed back to the kitchen.

"Who do you think it was?" Vala teased.

"How should I know?" Rory sipped at the coffee.

"Doesn't coffee go badly with those pills?"

"Only if you take it intravenously. And while we're being five years old, who's my Air Force Boyfriend?"

Vala smile. "Well, it can't be Daniel because he's not Air Force. Same with Teal'c." She waggled her eyebrows as she said this last, causing Rory to choke on her coffee.

"Oh god, Cam Mitchell is not-- You're twisted!"

"At least you didn't say General O'Neill," Vala continued, wondering how likely she was to give Rory a heart attack. "One, it would he rather out of character for him, then because it would be unseemly, as he brought you into the program, and last, he's got his eye on a girl of his own."

Rory put the cup back on the table and tried to regain control. "You're not allowed to speak ever again!"

"Why?" Vala settled back in her chair. Oh, this was enjoyable. "What's wrong with Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell? He's a decorated war hero, he drives a motorcycle, and you should see his naked rear end."

Rory glared at Vala with undisguised annoyance. "Cam's like twenty years older than I am, and he's not into scientists. Oh, and by the way, no!"

"You like him."

"I also like cheese, you don't see me mooning over cheese."

"He knows what a big geek you are, that has to count for something."

"Will you shut up?"

Vala stole Rory's coffee cup. "Only if you admit that you like Mitchell."

Rory dropped her head into her hands. "You're nuts." Any further commentary on the state of Vala's sanity was halted in its tracks by the arrival of two large plates. "Thank god."

"I'm known by many names," Luke said. To Vala's utter lack of surprise, he sat in a chair at the table. "So, here we are."

"Mmm," Rory said around a mouthful of cheeseburger. "How's April?"

"Back in school in New Mexico," Luke said. He cast a curious look at Vala. "She really enjoyed Disneyworld. It was good that you could make it down."

"I'm glad she could come with Mom," Rory said as she dumped a pile of ketchup on her fries. "I missed hanging around with her."

"Yes, your daughter is a lovely girl," Vala interjected.

"You've met her?" Luke asked.

"I saw a picture." Vala transferred her gaze to Rory. "Imagine finding out about your real father so late in life, and getting to know him against all odds."

Rory drove the point of her shoe into Vala's shin. "Yes, April's very lucky," she ground out.

"I'm the lucky one," Luke said. "How well do you know Rory?"

Vala shifted her chair back to avoid any more damage from Rory's shoes. "We've worked together for some time," Vala explained with a smile. "We have dinner together on post most nights, and she tells me about her work and I pretend to understand what she's talking about and we come up with ways to torment Daniel."

"Daniel being..." Luke prompted.

Vala started to respond, but she caught her tongue and instead smiled sweetly at Rory.

The girl jammed a fry into the ketchup. "Daniel is one of the archaeologists I work with," she said with deceptive calm. "He was kind enough to let me take over his apartment in town."

Luke blinked. "You're living in some guy's apartment? Your mom didn't tell me that."

"Well, she doesn't know," Rory said succinctly. "Do you mind if I get some more coffee?"

"No, go ahead," Luke said. "Vala, where are you from?"

Vala smiled even more widely and said without blinking an eye, "Burundi."

"You're from Burundi?" Luke repeated.

"Born and raised." The lies tripped neatly out of Vala's mouth. It had been so long since she'd to spin tales like this. It was fun. "Well, born. My parents were missionaries but I was educated by nuns."

Rory slid back into her chair, an eyebrow arched. "Yes, nuns," she said. "From the convent of Saint Trinian, wasn't it?"

Both Vala and Rory turned their smiles on Luke. He shook his head. "I'll get that pie."

Rory took another bite of burger. "The idea of you being educated by nuns is terrifying."

"Well, je suis le président de Burundi," Vala said.

Rory sputtered into her coffee cup. "This is my fault, isn't it?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"I introduced you to YouTube."

"Sixty-five billion videos online, and all the world wants to watch are dyed blondes, laughing babies, and Harry Potter puppets. It's a miracle your planet didn't kill itself off tripping over discarded clothing in the dark."

"Is Daniel still bothering you about that?"

"No, because then he'd have to admit he was _in my room_ at three in the morning."

Rory shook her head. "You two are such an old married couple."

"Only without much sex."

"See my previous comment. Also, stop it."

"You were perfectly willing to mock Daniel's tribal marriage to a Captain in the Royal Air Force and I can't even mention that the last time I had anything resembling fun with a pair of handcuffs was--"

Rory clapped her hands over her ears. "I'm not listening!"

Satisfied, Vala settled back in her chair. She was going to miss Rory's banter.

Sidling over, Luke deposited two large slices of pie on the table. "You want anything else? The meeting's going to let out soon and I need to prep for the crowd."

"How about some hot sauce and whipped cream?" Rory asked.

"You worry me," Luke grumbled.

"You missed me. Um, right?" Rory's confidence started to slide away, until Luke put his heavy hand on her shoulder and she brightened again.

Once again, Vala reflected on Rory's seriously messed-up paternal relationships. She craved attention and approval from older male role models, and that wasn't even starting on the uncomfortable (abet one-sided) relationship she had with Rodney McKay.

Vala wondered how messy things would get when Rory and her father actually met.

* * *

The cold wind swept along the street, making Vala shiver. "Are we almost there?"

"Almost. Just a few more blocks."

"And you didn't want to wait for your mother to show up at the diner, and chose to walk to your house because..."

Rory sighed. "The meeting was going to let out and I didn't want to talk to anyone."

"And have them ask you why you're suddenly all pro-Air Force?"

"Yeah, that would have gone great. I'd have said that it's because I work with people in the Air Force, and they'd ask why I was so centered on Memorial Day, and I'd say I couldn't tell, and they'd press, and I wouldn't be able to explain because of oh, I don't know, global security issues, and they'd get all worked up and my head would explode all over the diner."

"Ah."

"And it doesn't matter, because here we are," Rory announced. She led Vala up the walk to a blue house with white trim, with lights shining inside. Rory unlocked the front door and pushed inside. "And this is my house," Rory said. She dropped her suitcase to the wooden floor.

"Different from the SGC," Vala commented as Rory closed the door behind them.

"Above ground," Rory agreed. "And not full of security check-points."

"Where's the fun in that?" Vala hauled her duffle bag into a room with couches and chairs. "There's no handsome Marines threatening a strip-search--" She stopped as one of the fuzzy blankets lifted itself up off the couch and growled at her.

"Paul Anka!" Rory exclaimed. She pushed into the room past Vala and hugged the thing. "I missed you!"

Vala flinched as the thing licked Rory's face. "What is it?"

"It's my mom's dog," Rory said. She ruffled the thing's fur. "You've seen dogs before, I know you have. Remember Cassandra Fraser's dog?"

"That was small and pointy. _That_ is all full of hair." Vala jumped back as the dog barked at her. "Go away. Shoo."

"Paul Anka's not going to hurt you." Rory rubbed the creature's side. "He's probably scareder of you than you are of him."

"I'm not afraid," Vala said quickly. "I'm merely cautious."

The dog wormed its way out of Rory's grip and bounded across the floor to Vala. It stopped a merciful three feet away, sat back on its haunches and regarded Vala with beady little eyes.

"Aw, he likes you!" Rory said. She smirked in Vala's general direction. "That's adorable."

"That's annoying." Vala risked taking her gaze off the dog for a moment. "Where do we sleep?"

"My room, I suppose. This is the living room. Upstairs is Mom's room and the good bathroom. I could show you the rest of this place but you'll have to turn your back on Paul Anka."

"You're hilarious, do you know that?"

"Come on." Rory led Vala past the front door into a kitchen. "This is where food should be, but Mom never cooks, which is probably why I can't be bothered to, either. And that's my room," she finished, gesturing at a closed door.

"What would that be like?" Vala opened the door before Rory could protest. She switched on the light to a room with books on shelves and posters on walls, and the whole place felt so unlike the girl Vala had come to know that she didn't know what to say.

Rory crowded into the doorway beside Vala. "This is me," she said softly.

"Interesting." Vala went over and bounced a few times on the bed. "So, give me the stories."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is your childhood room, right? You must have little treasures with stories. Share with Vala."

"You're only doing this to torment me later, aren't you?"

Vala grinned. "I did the same with Mitchell when I went to his high school reunion. Come on, give it up."

Rory looked around the room, hesitating. Then she picked a box of baking soda up off the dresser. "I shoplifted this from Taylor's when I had my first kiss."

"Crime and passion," Vala said sagely. "A good mix."

"It wasn't quite like that," Rory protested. "More like, oh god, what just happened? And then I told Lane, my best friend, and Lane's mom told Lorelai, and Lorelai totally freaked out on me and actually _invited_ Dean over for movie night and totally humiliated me. But it worked out all right in the end."

"Dean..." Vala mused. "That was the married one, right?"

"Yup," Rory said. She paused in putting the box back on the table. "It's cold of me, just saying 'yes' like that, right?"

"Save the shame and embarrassment for the important things, like genocide or accidentally walking into the mess hall naked."

"How does one 'accidentally' walk into the mess hall naked?" Rory asked.

"Ask Daniel," Vala told her. "Okay, more stories."

Rory plucked a book off the desk and flipped it open. "Have I told you about Jess? He stole my book the first time he was here--"

"Why do all of your good stories involve felonies?"

"You're one to talk!"

* * *

Half an hour later, Rory had pouted until Vala finally broke down and started on a story of her time as a Goa'uld host, involving a complicated digression into Goa'uld politics and history and Vala as the dashing heroine. Paul Anka had, at some point, flopped into Rory's room and was drooling on Vala's shoes.

Then a door crashed open down the hall and an unfamiliar voice called, "Rory?"

"Mom!" Rory exclaimed, bouncing off the bed and almost sending Vala careening to the floor.

Vala followed at a more sedate pace, leaning in the doorway while mother and daughter had their reunion.

Lorelai, who Vala recognized from photographs, held her daughter tight. "When did you get here?" she asked, voice muffled against Rory's hair. "Luke told me you showed up at the diner but didn't wait for me. Why didn't you call me?"

"Your phone wasn't working," said Rory. She pulled back from her mother, sniffling just a little, but happy.

Lorelai around, her eyes lingering on Vala for an instant before going back to her daughter. In the moment before Lorelai opened her mouth, Vala suddenly had a flash as to what was about to happen, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"I left home this morning at nine," Lorelai said. "Are you telling me that you just came home on the spur of the moment across country?"

Rory took a half-step backwards, hand brushing her hair behind her ear, in the rare but painful gesture of 'I don't know what I've done wrong.' "Actually, yes," Rory stammered.

"Well-- well good!" Lorelai declared loudly. "What a nice surprise." She hugged Rory again. "Anytime you want to surprise me by coming home, you can. Day or night. Well, if it's three in the morning you might want to ring the bell before you come in--"

"Mom," Rory said, interrupting the verbal explosion. "Stop. There's something I need to tell you. Right now."

Lorelai stemmed the tide of words. Even from this distance, Vala could see the rising worry in the woman's eyes. Lorelai took a deep breath. "Okay, what's up? Are you getting married?"

"I'm not getting married," Rory said, straightening her spine against her task. "But I took an assignment overseas."

The words toppled into the room with the cold precision of jewels on marble. Lorelai stepped back into the living room, leaving Rory alone in the middle of the floor.

Rory's fingers twisted together, over and over, a waterfall of movement that Vala had only seen when Rory was on the verge of creating new science. "I'm leaving on Monday morning," Rory continued. "And I don't know when I'll be back. But I wanted..." She broke off for a moment. "I wanted to say good-bye."

Lorelai didn't speak. Stillness returned to the house, with Rory and her mother in almost the same pattern as Vala had stood with Adria, those many months ago on the Odyssey, at the end.

Vala pushed those memories away. There was no profit in revisiting the past.

"So, I guess that's what I had to say," Rory said.

Lorelai turned around and walked into the living room. Rory took a step towards her mother, hand outstretched, but her mother did not see, and in another moment Rory let her arm fall to her side.

"Right," Lorelai said, turning around. "So you're going away."

"Yes."

"I didn't think the Army could make civilians go anywhere."

"It's the Air Force, Mom," Rory corrected automatically. "And it wasn't an order. I volunteered."

"You..." Lorelai's jaw wagged soundlessly for a moment. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be moving around a lot," Rory said.

"Which means what?"

"Just that." The tension in Rory's shoulders grew more pronounced. "The project's exact location is classified."

"Which country?" Lorelai pressed. "Hi, Alex, I'd like to buy a hemisphere?"

"I can't tell you that," Rory said. "And I don't know when I'll be back. But I can contribute things to the project that no one else can," she said. "I made my decision last week."

"Did you make a pro-con list?" Lorelai asked.

Rory's hands curled into her skirt. "Mom, please don't do this," she said in a way that might have been pleading if Vala listened hard enough.

"I'm not--" Lorelai pressed her hands together. She was trying, Vala could see that. "I'm not mocking the list, I'm just trying to deal with this."

"She made a list," Vala said from the kitchen. "And she checked it many times. It was a very long list that had many boring points on each side. I snuck a few points of my own points in at the last minute, but I couldn't change her mind."

"Needing someone around to feed Daniel's fish wasn't a plausible reason to not go," Rory said. She took five careful steps to the living room and sat on the sofa, hands shivering and she reached for her bag and if she pulled out the little white pills again, Vala was knocking Rory unconscious and carrying the girl to a medic herself. "Mom, this is Vala, the one from work I was talking about?"

Vala nodded at the woman, not really smiling because she was keeping an eye on the bag and Rory's hand, but all Rory removed from the satchel was her small notebook.

Lorelai frowned in thought. "Rory said you're not a scientist, but she didn't quite explain what you do. Are you in the Air Force?"

Vala wondered if she could find a way to go back in time and make Daniel go on this trip instead of her. "No, I'm not in your military. I'm more of a cultural attaché."

"She's from Burundi," Rory muttered as she flipped open her notebook.

"Rory and I met on her first day at the mountain," Vala said. Rory was already scribbling on the paper. "What, you just couldn't wait to make a journal entry on your first night back at home?"

"I think I figured out something that might help in the power encryption simulation," Rory said. "If we rework the comprehension of the base number structure into a variance between base eight and base ten, then there's a chance that this just might work after all. And I have you to thank for it!"

"You're welcome," Vala said, as usual not understanding a word the girl was saying. "How exactly did I help?"

"By mentioning Santa Claus," Rory said, as if it should be obvious. "It's that old math joke. How is Halloween like Christmas to a mathematician?"

"If you're waiting for me to come up with a punch line to that one, you're going to starve to death first," Vala reminded her.

"Oh. Right. Well, it's because October 31st is equal to December 25th." Rory gave her customary two-second pause. "You know, 31 in base eight is equal to 25 in base ten?"

Vala just stared.

"Daniel would have gotten that joke."

"Daniel's brain has been run through a sieve over the last twelve years."

"But he still would have gotten it."

"Which makes me worry more about you than him." Vala pushed herself off the doorframe. "Now, stop writing and catch up with your mother and reassure her that you're not going to get eaten by werewolves while you're away."

"What are you going to do?" Rory asked without looking up from her notebook.

Vala shrugged. "Maybe I'll bother Daniel."

"He's in another state."

"Which will make it all the more challenging." Vala shuffled out of the line of sight deeper into the kitchen, wondering what she could possibly do to keep herself occupied while Rory had it out with her mother.

All, of course, while Vala listened very hard to the low conversation occurring between Gilmores in the living room.

"So, kid, you're going traveling," Lorelai said.

"Sure, I guess," Rory replied. There was a pause just long enough for Rory to slide down the sofa cushions, her own default reaction to stress. "How's the inn?"

"Rory, sweetie, forget about the inn," Lorelai said. "When did you find out they were shipping you to Destination Nowhere?"

"They asked me if I wanted to go, Mom, it's not like they're going to toss me in a crate and air-drop me over 'Nam."

Vala extracted Rory's Blackberry, cunningly concealed in her breast pocket, and logged into the email program.

_**To:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Small Town America_

_**Body:** Why did I let you talk me into this? So far, Rory's already basically set up a memorial to a Marine she didn't like, has convinced her mother that she's been brainwashed by the military, and has another headache._

_On the upside, I had PIE._

_Love,_

_Not-Rory._

"But when did you find out?" Lorelai pressed.

"Before today," Rory admitted. "But I've been busy with stuff and couldn't get away and I wasn't even sure they'd let me go."

"They asked you to go but wouldn't say if they'd let you? Is that Military Intelligence at work?"

"I had to pass my orals first."

"I'm assuming not dental."

"No, Mom. I stood up in front of a bunch of very smart people and they verbally eviscerated me for five hours before agreeing that maybe I was smart enough to make it worthwhile continuing in the program. I'm going to be working on my doctorate while I'm away."

"Of course you're smart enough! Who said you weren't smart enough?"

The Blackberry vibrated at the arrival of an email.

_**To:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Re: Small Town America_

_**Body:** Vala? What's going on? What's wrong with Rory?_

_> Rory's already basically set up a memorial to a Marine she didn't likeWho? There are security regulations for that sort of thing._

_Teal'c wants to know what kind of pie._

_Daniel_

_**To:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Pie (was Re: Small Town America)_

_**Body:** Take the mutant offspring of a strawberry and a key-lime pie, and coat it in sugar and you have the best pie on this side of the country. But Mitchell's mother still makes the best pie ever. I'll see if I can bring the recipe back for Teal'c._

_Never you mind about security regulations. I'm the one who breaks those, not Rory, remember?_

_Kisses and handcuffs_

_Queen Awesome_

"Mom, it's just complicated."

"Are there going to be other smart people there, in whatever field you're in--"

"Theoretical high energy physics."

"That. Ooh, are you going to Switzerland?"

"Huh?"

"Switzerland is where they have that big underground thing, right?"

"CERN? Yes, that's in Switzerland, but I'm not going there."

"Rats, I was going to ask you to pick me up some chocolate."

"I heard a rumor they deliver now."

"But you get to travel? On Uncle Sam's dime?"

_**To:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**CC** : D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** C.Mitchell@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Re: FWD: Pie (was Re: Small Town America)_

_**Body:** _

_> But Mitchell's mother still makes the best pie ever. Damned straight._

_Vala, if Rory's feeling sick, take her to a military hospital and we can evacuate her back to command. I'll clear it with the General._

_C_

"Wait, what do you mean, I can't call you? What kind of bum deal is this?"

"The kind where we're going to be under radio silence. We can still email."

"But I hate email! It's not the same writing things into a computer. If I wanted to write letters I'd have become my mother."

"I'm going to tell her you said that."

"Oh, and by the way, are you going to tell your grandparents that you're leaving?"

"I hope so. I mean, I know that tomorrow's Friday and you're probably having dinner with them--"

"And you wanted to tell them then? Are you trying to give them a heart attack?"

"That's not funny!"

_**To:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil, C.Mitchell@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** CALM DOWN_

_**Body:** People, please CALM DOWN. Rory is fine. Just a headache, and she says that's why she has those white pills. And she's dealing with family. If I were her, my head would have already exploded._

_Erase these emails, will you? I think she can hack into the servers._

_Vala_

Email complete, Vala slipped the Blackberry into her pocket and faced the coffee maker. She'd been around Daniel and Rory enough to be able to make coffee all on her own, she figured. And considering the Gatelag she was facing, coffee might be an idea.

"Whoa, Rory, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything--"

"Grandpa's still sick, how can you make jokes like that?"

"Rory, I said I was sorry, it was just a joke."

Vala opened cupboards at random until she found what looked and smelled like coffee grounds. She read the instructions and set to work.

"I'm not trying to give anyone a heart attack, but I have to tell them that I'm going, and how can I tell them that? 'Hey, I'm leaving on a jet plane and don't know when I'll be back again'?"

"You didn't seem to have any trouble launching it on me and I'm your mother."

"What do you want me to say? I only found out today that I'd passed my orals and that I can actually go. This is the opportunity of a lifetime--"

"To see the world?"

"Something like that."

"But you're only twenty-five, you're still a--"

"If you say I'm a baby or a little girl, I am _so_ going to be upset."

"--a young woman who is very much not a baby..."

"You forgot what you were going to say, didn't you?"

"No, I did not! I was going to say that if you wanted to travel, you can use your trust fund and travel the world on your own without being in the army."

"Mother, I'm working with the Air Force."

"Don't say 'mother' like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the word 'Dearest' should go after it."

_**To:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** I take it back_

_**Body:** Remind me again whose idea it was for me to come here?_

"You know what? I'm calling a hydration time out." Footsteps sounded on the floor and Vala barely had time to hide the borrowed Blackberry in a coffee cup before Rory stormed past her and headed to the sink. She poured herself a cup of water from the tap, then squared her shoulders for a second round. Vala gave her the thumbs up as Rory went back to the living room.

"So, round two?"

"Mom, we're not fighting."

_**To:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Re: I take it back_

_**Body:** That bad?_

"But if we don't pack six months of arguments into the next few days, it'll be a sad situation. Gilmores, calm and collected?"

"Please, we're not you and your mother."

"And now I'm going to tell her that you said that."

"Traitor."

_**To:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Re: I take it back_

_**Body:** Her mother isn't saying it out loud, but she doesn't want Rory to go._

"So what did you do when you got in? Luke was less verbose than usual."

_**To:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Re: I take it back_

_**Body:** And that's why you're there. Rory needs a friend._

"Long enough ago."

"Why, what did you do?"

"Vala and I went to the town meeting."

"Ew. It's budget night."

_**To:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Re: I take it back_

_**Body:** If you start talking about rainbows and unicorns I'm going to hurt you._

"I know. We left quickly. That's all."

"Uh huh."

"It is."

"Is that why that crowd of people was making its way to Luke's diner with shovels and rakes and implements of destruction?"

_**To:** R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**From:** D.Jackson@cheyenne.af.mil_  
_**Subject:** Re: I take it back_

_**Body:** Wouldn't dream of it._

"There was not."

"You know what I mean. Luke didn't know what was up and I made a run for it before I was trampled. What happened?'

"I donated some money to the Memorial Day celebration, that's all. Lane was supposed to give it to Taylor after the meeting," Rory said.

"That's all?"

"Sort of." Vala poured the coffee into a mug, taking a small taste and figuring it wasn't too vile. Mitchell made worse off-world. She set about exploring the rest of the kitchen while Rory hedged in the other room. "I sort of made a donation to the Memorial Day celebration."

"So? What difference could a couple bucks make?"

"It wasn't like that?"

"How much did you give? Fifty bucks?"

Rory mumbled something.

"You gave Taylor seven _thousand_ dollars?" Lorelai exclaimed.

"Yes, I did."

"You gave the town seven thousand dollars for Memorial Day?" Lorelai said again.

"For crying out loud," Rory muttered. "Forget it! They were going to cancel the Memorial Day celebration and it wasn't right!"

Wondering idly how long this would go on, Vala pulled a box of 'Pop Tarts' out of the cupboard. Maybe these things were edible. She was getting hungry again.

"But seven--"

"What else am I going to do with my trust fund?" Rory demanded. "I already paid back Grandpa for Yale with Great-grandmother's money, and I have a job and a place to live, and the Air Force will be paying me while I'm away, so it's not like I need the money for anything!"

"But why should you be paying for a town festival? Are you going to be back in May?"

"I have no idea," Rory said. "I might be. But probably not."

"When are you going to be home?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know when you're going to be coming home from a mystery assignment in a mystery place, and you don't know when I'll be able to contact you?"

"Mom--"

"How could you agree to this? You'd have more freedom in jail!"

"You're being supportive, remember?"

Vala opened a foil package and sniffed the contents cautiously. There was pastry, and there was icing, even if it was bright blue. It looked somewhat edible.

"Of course I remember!"

"I agreed to this because it's an amazing opportunity."

"An amazing opportunity you can't talk about."

"Mom!"

"All right! I'm sorry!"

"It's the best thing that could happen to me! I'll be working with some of the top minds in the field, on equipment that we can't get here--" at which point Vala dropped her pop tart in an explosion of crumbs and moved with alacrity towards the living room. "And I'll finally be able to-- What?"

Lorelai and Rory were on opposite ends of the couch, facing off over cups of coffee. Vala sat on the stairs and made herself smile a warning at Rory. "Just wanted to join in the conversation, as it's about work."

Rory pushed her hair back from her eyes. "As I was going to say," she said with a glare at Vala. "I'll finally be able to do this work the way it should be done. It's the opportunity of a lifetime."

"But you'll be gone! It'll be like you living in Grandma's pool house all over again."

"Mom, listen to me." Rory put her hand on Lorelai's knee. "Best opportunity in the universe: I has it. Go me. Right?"

When Lorelai didn't answer, Vala said, "It's really quite good, I hear. The Air Force won't even let Daniel go, even though he begged and pleaded and would have snuck onto the transport unless General O'Neill had put a tether on him."

Rory looked quizzically at Vala. "Metaphorical tether?"

Vala smiled happily at the memory. "No."

"Oh."

Lorelai interrupted the exchange. "Let me see if I've got the situation right," she said. Vala resisted the urge to sigh. "You're going far away on Monday, and you don't know when you'll be back, or when we can talk, or anything."

Rory's jaw was set in that creepy mimicry of Rodney McKay again. "Yes."

Lorelai rested her head on her hand for a moment. "Gah! This isn't a fair thing to spring on someone who hasn't had time to digest her coffee!"

Rory shifted forward on the couch and hugged her mother, almost upsetting the woman's cup. Lorelai hugged her daughter back, and Vala was once again left superfluous.

Vala sighed. How did she get herself mixed up in stuff like this? She hated domestics, and yet here she was, buried waist-deep in Rory Gilmore's life.

She couldn't wait to see how Lorelai reacted when she found out who Rory's father was.

Maybe helping herself to some of Rory's pretty pills wasn't such a bad idea.

* * *

The door of the Dragonfly Inn opened under Vala's hand, letting her into a warm lobby with people milling about. Every single person in the room exuded that air of sleek complacency, never having known starvation or plague or subjugation. After spending her entire life on the make, alternating between Goa'uld host, cons, thieving, and finally as intergalactic superhero, being in that room made the claustrophobia rose up in Vala's throat.

Vala took a deep breath and tried to push those feelings down. She was _Vala Mal Doran_ , valued member of SG-1 and savior of not a few planets in her time. Spine straight and smile flashing at those people who looked her way, Vala headed to the registration area.

The man behind the registration desk placed the phone in its holder and smiled vacantly at Vala. "Welcome to the Dragonfly Inn. How may I help you?"

Vala leaned on the desk, smiling back. She rather liked the cut of his suit and how the light purple shirt worked well with his tie. "It depends, are you Michel?"

The man's smile grew real. "Oui, mademoiselle, that is I. How may I assist you on this fine day?"

"I'm meeting someone here for lunch, but I suspect I may be early for the first time in my life," Vala confided. She braced one arm on the desk and leaned in just a fraction of an inch. She knew she'd been right in wearing this particular shirt, as Michel's eyes strayed for just a moment. "Might you be able to suggest a way to... pass the time?"

Michel smirked. "Indeed, mademoiselle..."

"Vala," she supplied. "I hear you have some lovely amenities?"

"We do, we do." Michel pulled out a brochure and laid it on the desk. "The Dragonfly Inn specializes in entertaining our guests, be it for an afternoon or a week."

"Excellent," Vala purred. "What do you have in the way of an hour's entertainment?"

"A walking tour of the grounds is highly recommended," Michel said without missing a beat. "Here is a map of the premises."

"Thank you." Vala picked up the small map without looking at it. "It was indeed a pleasure to meet you, Michel."

"And you, Vala." The man's smile stayed with her all the way out the door. Really, Vala didn't know what about the man had annoyed Rory so much the previous day.

The air was bracing but not too cold. Mitchell always complained about global warming, but the temperature in Stars Hollow was milder than the weather they left in Colorado and oh so much nicer than the ice planet SG-1 had spent three weeks on the previous month. Vala wandered around the edge of the building, stepping around empty beds of dirt and deserted benches, listening to the slight breeze in the air.

How long had it been since she was alone? At the SGC, she was always surrounded by military personnel and SG-1 and Rory. Hell, the entire post lived in each other's hip pockets. It was always loud and three minutes away from certain death, and Vala missed it.

Up ahead, into the landscape stepped a big grey horse. It bent its head and nibbled at a hardy green bush.

It had been _ages_ since Vala had been on a horse. True, the horses bred by the Goa'uld were of smaller stock than Earth horses, but the basic shape and animal instinct remained.

Not seeing a bridle on the horse, Vala approached the beast head-on. "Hey there," she said softly. The horse raised its head and whinnied. Vala edged closer, pulling out the remains of a donut from her pocket. "What are you doing out here alone?"

Not unsurprisingly, the horse didn't respond, only tossed its head when it saw the donut in Vala's outstretched palm. It stepped towards her, mouth out. Vala let the horse take the donut, licking her palm for the sugary crumbs.

"That's probably no healthier for you than it is for me, is it?" Vala patted the horse, which was almost a foot taller than those she was used to. The creature moved into the pressure and rubbed its nose into Vala's hand. "I won't tell anyone if you won't. You know, you rather remind me of a husband I had once. He was big and blustery and if you fed him sugar and rubbed his nose, he'd pretty much do anything." Vala smiled at the horse, refusing to feel grief for a man she'd left behind decades ago. "He's dead now."

"Cletus likes you," came a voice from the path. Vala looked over the horse's back to see Lorelai picking her way across the frozen ground.

"He likes sugar," Vala said, keeping her voice deliberately light. "Is he big for an Ea-- an American horse?"

"I have no idea," Lorelai confessed. "No one really rides him and so no one's fallen off yet to tell us how far down the ground is." She cleared her throat. "Where's Rory?"

"In town," Vala answered. "She wanted to catch up with her friend Lane and I told her I'd meet her here."

"You didn't want to stay?"

"Lane has children," Vala said, failing to keep the irritation out of her voice. "They were crawling all over me. And were sticky. And loud."

"How did you get here?"

Cletus the horse stepped into Vala's side, trying to push her over until she pushed back just as firmly. "I walked part of the way and then the nice man with the vegetables picked me up and drove in the rest of the way. He was going to meet 'Sookie' for something to do with kumquats, whatever that means."

"Sookie's our chef," Lorelai explained. She hunched into her coat as the wind picked up. "The vegetable man is her husband Jackson."

"Ah." Vala slapped the horse's side, and the creature rambled away across the dead grass. "They were at the meeting last night."

"Sookie mentioned that Taylor told everyone at the diner what Rory did," said Lorelai . "Why did Rory give the town seven thousand dollars?"

"For your Memorial Day," Vala replied shortly. She had no desire to talk with this woman about her daughter, especially knowing all of the things Rory hadn't mentioned to her mother. Like Atlantis. And Rodney McKay.

"But what about it? Did something happen to her in Colorado?" Lorelai asked. "Was she trying to prove a point? What?"

"If Rory had been trying to prove a point about Memorial Day, she'd have wrapped herself in a flag and rode an SUV spouting fire into the meeting," Vala shot back. "We work with a lot of military people in Colorado, maybe that had something to do with her reasoning."

Vala would not tell this woman about Major Wu. It was none of her business about Marines who died saving others, and it was secret besides.

"So your job is dangerous?" Lorelai asked.

Vala was starting to wish she'd stayed with Rory and Lane and the sticky screaming children. "I have a different job than Rory. Rory stays in the labs." For the most part.

"And you?"

"I don't."

Lorelai blew out a sharp breath. "But you spend a lot of time with Rory, right?"

Vala put her cold hands in her pockets. "Yes."

"The thing is, she mentioned this guy to Luke, Daniel..."

Vala waited.

"What's he like?"

"Daniel's a scientist." There. A totally useless answer.

"Are he and Rory... I mean, are they, you know..."

It finally occurred to Vala was Lorelai was getting at, which was ridiculously delayed because no matter how Vala teased Daniel about his desire to save the damsel in distress, she had never seriously entertained the idea that Daniel might be interested sexually in the girl, nor Rory in Daniel. Vala's insides shrunk back in disbelief, which might have been entertaining upon the telling but was in fact quite uncomfortable.

"No! Oh no," Vala exclaimed. "Daniel thinks of Rory as a younger... well, not sister, but cousin. Or daughter of a friend, or not a friend but a far-away colleague. He goes on these quests to save women with big eyes and sob stories, but it's the valiant knight complex and besides, he's way too old for her."

Understanding dawned on Lorelai's face during Vala's little rant. "So you and him, huh?"

"Yes. No. It's complicated."

"It usually is." Lorelai's expression had thawed somewhat. "Rory's my only kid, you know."

"She mentions it constantly."

"I-- she does?"

"Sure. There's wondering if she's developed some kind of only-child entitlement complex, and about whether you'd have been happier with more, or how her life would have been different with a sibling, and besides, there's that whole question of when you and that nice man at the diner will get back together again."

"Me and _Luke_?"

"We have a pool going at work," Vala said with a smile. "So far, the bets are on for Christmas. Rory's got odds of six-to-one on that."

Lorelai blustered for a moment, her cheeks red from more than the cold. "She's not going to be there, though," Lorelai finally said.

Vala shrugged. "Money keeps. Have you been convinced that Rory wasn't coerced into going?"

Lorelai's shoulders slumped. "Do you have kids?"

Vala smiled and lied and refused to grieve for a child that wasn't properly hers, had never been anything but a parasite in her body for all those long months as the child unborn squirmed beneath her heart. "No."

"Rory's everything that I never got to be." Lorelai paused. "I don't mean it like that. I guess all parents want their kids to do better than them, but really, Rory's done so much, gone so far."

Adria had been such a strange changeling child, with golden eyes and designs upon murderous galactic conquest. Adria had called Vala 'Mother', a lie that ached in Vala's heart on strange dark nights under alien moons.

Oddly, it was Teal'c voice in her head, telling her that they must continue on the march, that pulled Vala back to herself and this conversation with Lorelai Gilmore.

"If you want your daughter to continue to outshine you, you'll stop trying to guilt her out of going," Vala said bluntly. "She's brilliant. And I don't mean she's moderately good at what she does, I mean the top scientists in the world clamour for her attention. The scientists on post have formed a Rory Gilmore fan club and by going on assignment where she is, she's going to get to places beyond anything this--" Vala almost said 'planet', but managed to catch herself in time. "This town or this country can offer her." She shuddered. "I'm starting to sound like the General. I need a drink."

"Really?" Lorelai said, looking flabbergasted. "Rory's that good?"

Vala leveled a glare at the woman. "Of course she is. The U.S. Air Force isn't in the habit of going easy on its civilian consultants."

"That's not what I meant, it's just... science? Was never really Rory's thing. She always wanted to write."

"Well, it's science now. That bulging forebrain is being put to some abstract use." Vala let Lorelai usher her into the Inn through the back door, a semblance of a truce between them. "Although it's somewhat heartening to be around someone who refuses to chose a hairstyle between bangs or no-bangs."

"You should have seen her curly-hair days when she was a toddler," Lorelai said. "She looked like a little dandelion. People kept asking me if she'd stuck her finger in a light socket."

"I thought sticking a finger in a light socket was potentially fatal," Vala said in puzzlement. The women entered the packed dining room, where Rory was already sitting alone at a table.

"It's a saying," Lorelai said.

Rory looked up when Lorelai and Vala sat at the table. "What's a saying?" the girl asked. "Mom, are you tormenting Vala with pop culture references that she doesn't understand?"

"Not really," Vala said. She took hold of the full coffee cup conveniently located between Rory's plate and her own, and took a long drink. "Your mother was asking about life in Colorado. And the Daniels therein."

Rory tried to grab the cup out of Vala's hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mother wanted to know if my Daniel had any nefarious designs upon you," Vala said with a wink at Lorelai.

As she'd expected, Rory's mock outrage and Lorelai's halfhearted defense carried them all the way past the salad course and into the main dish.

Never let it be said that Vala couldn't direct Rory's train of thought over a meal.

* * *

Whereas Rory's childhood home was cluttered and crowded, it was at least comfortable. The large stone edifice looming over the circular drive looked anything but, cold and expensive. Usually when Vala had been in places this ornate, she had been pulling a scam. The mental comparison was unpleasant.

Lorelai and Rory were not faring much better. Rory shifted her weight from one foot to the other while Lorelai tried to drink a full cup of coffee in one go.

"Are you going to need a paramedic?" Rory asked her mother when the woman finally came up for air. "Or a bucket?"

"Ha ha." Lorelai stuffed the empty cup into her cavernous bag. "Just want to give my empty stomach a good coating before the alcohol."

"So ring the bell," Rory said after Lorelai remained where she was, a good three feet from the door.

"Okay." Lorelai turned to Rory. "Don't kill me."

"Kill you? Why would I kill you?"

Lorelai shrank back from her daughter. "I sort of called my parents earlier today to tell them you were leaving?"

Rory's eyes grew wide. "You did _what_?"

"It made sense at the time!" Lorelai said defensively. "If you just sprang the 'I'm being shipped off to 'Nam' on them like you did me yesterday, Dad's heart might have skipped out and Mom's head would explode and while that would be entertaining on any other day, I just couldn't do that to them!"

"So you called them?" Rory actually stamped her foot in frustration. "I can't believe you!" Then she hugged her mother. "Thank you," she said, voice muffled against Lorelai's shoulder.

Lorelai looked helplessly at Vala, who simply shrugged and went to press the bell.

The door was opened by a woman too young and too dark of skin to be Rory's grandmother. "Yes?" the woman inquired.

"Hi, we're here for dinner," Lorelai said, disentangling herself from Rory. "Come on, babe, you're too old to pretend your feet are glued to the ground. This isn't the Christmas of 1991."

Rory straightened up, letting Lorelai pull her into the house. Vala followed discreetly, watching Lorelai remove her coat and hand it to the maid. Vala in turn handed her own leather jacket to the woman, hoping that she'd get it back, as she'd 'borrowed' it from Sam Carter's closet since the woman was in another galaxy.

"Okay," Lorelai said. Oddly, both she and Rory seemed to be girding for battle. "Let's do this."

Rory put her hand on Vala's arm. "Just remember, they don't actually bite," Rory said.

"Where's the fun in that?" Vala demanded, but Rory just dragged her down the hall.

Lorelai came to a halt in the open doorway. As they rounded the wall to the parlor, Rory underwent a similar freezing process beside Vala. Why, Vala did not understand. There were three people in the room, an older man and woman recognizable from the photograph in Rory's wallet, and a man. Vala didn't recognize him, but her mind quickly categorized any number of men that might affect mother and daughter so, and she wondered if he might be...

"Christopher," Rory whispered, and suddenly Vala understood.

This was the man Rory had believed to be her father for the first twenty-four years of her life. And now he was in her grandparents' living room on the eve of Rory's departure for Atlantis.

"Well, isn't this awkward?" Vala said brightly. She shoved a pale Rory into the room. "I'm Vala," she continued, reaching out and shaking hands with the older man, Richard, and the woman, Emily, and then moving on to Rory's not-father. "It's nice to meet you."

"Mom, what's going on?" Lorelai demanded, glowering heartily at her parents.

"Lorelai," Emily said with a lift of the chin. "When you told us about what was happening with Rory, I thought it might be nice to invite the girl's father to dinner--"

"Without asking first?" Lorelai exclaimed.

Richard had turned to fiddle with the drinks tray to cover his discomfort, and Christopher stood, hands in his pockets, looking only at Rory. Of course, Vala thought, plunking herself on the appallingly hard sofa. Christopher knew perfectly well he wasn't Rory's father.

Rory moved physically between her mother and grandmother. "Mom, it's fine," she said carefully, eyes only for Christopher. "Hi."

"Hello, Rory," Christopher responded. "I can leave if you--"

"No, don't be stupid." Rory forced out a painful smile. "Mom, everything's okay, all right?"

Throwing another murderous glare at Emily, Lorelai flung herself in a chair by the low table. "Everything's just peachy, honey."

"Good." Rory moved across the room to hug her grandmother, then her grandfather. The girl hesitated for just a moment before reaching her arms around Christopher's neck and giving him a quick squeeze. For his part, Christopher looked nearly as uncomfortable as Rory must have felt.

Vala sat back and watched. It was like a Goa'uld drama, only with less slaughter of obnoxious family members. Well, so far.

Richard cleared his throat. "May I get anyone a drink?" he asked. "I have martinis ready."

"God yes," Lorelai exclaimed too loudly. Chris nodded, Vala brightened, and Rory sighed.

"Can you make mine a double, Grandpa?" Rory asked as she slumped on the couch beside Vala. "I don't know when I'll get to have another."

"Oh, they have alcohol where you're going," Vala said, accepting a glass from the tall man.

"They do?" Rory sounded surprised.

"Yes." Vala took a sip. These humans and their insistence on diluting their alcohol. "Of course, you have to be careful it doesn't make you blind."

Lorelai downed most of her martini in one gulp. "Hit me again," she said to her father, lifting her glass in the air. Richard gave her a look of disapproval.

Emily sat forward in her chair. "Miss..." she began, and it took Vala a moment to realize she was being addressed.

"Mal Doran. Vala Mal Doran," Vala said. She didn't understand why the woman looked so sour. Rory had seen to it that her dress, makeup, hair and shoes were perfectly acceptable. She sat with her legs crossed, she hadn't tried to steal anything since she entered the house, and she hadn't even flirted with any of the men.

"Miss Mal Doran," Emily completed her sentence. "Lorelai tells us you know Rory."

Vala gave Rory a sideways glance. The girl was totally engrossed in her beverage. "Yes, I do," Vala said. "Which is somewhat useful as otherwise it would be awkward being on vacation with her."

Across the room, Christopher's lips twitched in the tiniest of smiles.

"We met at work," Rory said, finally dragging her attention away from the booze. "Vala is also a civilian contractor with the Air Force, only in a different area than mine."

"You're not a scientist?" Richard said, handing Lorelai another full glass.

Vala couldn't stop the nervous twich in the corner of her mouth. "No. I'm a cultural attaché."

Emily's eyes flicked over Vala for just a moment, totally dismissing her in the blink of an eye. "For what sort of culture?"

Before Vala could challenge Rory's grandmother to a knife fight, Rory set her glass on the low table with a clunk. "I'm going away on Monday," she said loudly. The diversionary tactic succeeded in pulling Emily and Richard's undivided attention to her. "And Vala is not only a co-worker, she's a good friend who agreed to come home with me when I'm sure there are ten thousand other things she's rather be doing than being exposed to the bizarre eccentricities of East Cost civilization."

Richard looked embarrassed again and Emily seemed to be drawing breath for retaliation, so Vala did the only thing she could without risking arrest. "Four things, actually."

Rory turned her head. "What?"

"Four things, not ten thousand. But I've been barred from most of those places without a military escort so it made more sense to come with you." In Vala's smile lay a warning to Rory, to keep her temper before something unfortunate was said.

Rory either got the message or came to the same conclusion on her own. She let out a sharp breath and turned to focus on Christopher. "How's GiGi?"

Christopher fiddled with his untouched drink. "She's good. She started grade one in September. She says hi, by the way."

Rory's eyes drifted upwards to the overhead lights for just a moment before snapping back to Christopher. "Tell her I say hi too, please?" The words were fragile with emotion, and Vala could remember that day in June when Vala caught Rory looking at pictures of Dr. Freyd's four children and Rory had confessed, _I used to have a sister, you know. Her name was GiGi_.

Christopher nodded as Emily started speaking again. "Rory, when you're on this mysterious mission for the military, will we be able to contact you, or will you be as 'incommunicado' as you have been since you left for Colorado in the first place?"

"Mom," Lorelai said warningly.

"We'll be under radio silence, but we'll be able to receive emails and letters," Rory said.

"Emails," Emily said dismissively. "It's not the same writing things into a computer."

Lorelai choked on her martini.

"When will you be back?" Richard asked. "Your mother was rather vague on those details."

"I don't know yet," Rory said. Her spine was very straight under the interrogation. "The project may be ongoing. But I'll know better in a few months about my rotation."

"Will this impact your doctoral work?" he asked.

"No, it won't." Rory ducked her head and smiled that little 'I'm self-deprecating but I know I'm the smartest person in the room' smile. "I spent this semester taking classes at the University of Colorado, and finished all those up. I passed the orals, too, and now I just spend the next three to four years working on my research project and presto, Doctor Gilmore."

The proud smile on Richard's face was enough to make Vala push aside his wife's snobbishness and be glad she'd come with Rory. "You didn't pass the orals, you aced them," Vala reminded Rory, and was rewarded in seeing Richard glow a little more. "Dr. Freyd was bouncing off the walls at how awesome you were."

Rory's cheeks colored pink. "It wasn't that good."

"He said that if your work wasn't shrouded under seven different kinds of non-disclosure and top secret designations, he'd have filmed the thing for posterity."

Emily, who had been checking her watch, stood. "It's time for dinner," she said sharply.

Vala bounced up, smiling at Emily. "Great, I'm starved."

Rory caught Vala's arm and squeezed her hand on the way into the dining room. "I thought you said you were going to behave yourself," she hissed.

"How am I not behaving myself?" Vala demanded.

"Can you not talk about work?"

"All you do is work," Vala pointed out. The walk to the dining room was short, and soon Rory and Vala were seated side-by-side, with Vala across the table from the handsome Christopher. "You wake up and go to school and come to work and do more work until I have to drag you to dinner and then you work some more until you pass out. Rinse and repeat."

"That's not entirely true," Rory said. "I have fun, on occasion."

Vala raised an eyebrow. "When? Name one time you did something that was fun and had nothing to do with work."

Rory had to think about that. "The barbecue at the General's house when Colonel Carter came back," she finally said. "That was fun."

"That was a three-hour break from work. Mitchell had to drag you out of the Mountain and toss you over the back of his bike to get you to come with us, and that was on a Sunday."

"But it was still fun."

The maid brought in the salad plates, and Emily struck up a conversation with no one in particular. Rory wouldn't look up from her plate, Lorelai alternated glares at everyone in the room, and Emily kept on talking.

Vala gave up. She ate her salad with the expensive flatware and drank wine from a delicate glass and wondered if Rory had ever felt she belonged in this house.

Emily's droning continued, with Christopher adding an occasional comment and Lorelai muttering snaky asides. Richard seemed absorbed in his plate, but occasionally he would transfer his gaze to the left and stare at Rory with as much true loss as Vala had seen on anyone in this house.

The meat came, more wine was poured, and somewhere in between bites of the lovely beef, Vala became aware that Rory fading out of reality. Not physically, for the girl's body was still seated in the chair, but her eyes were fixed on a point three inches over the salt shaker. In Mitchell's words, the lights were on but no one was home.

Vala was used to this behavior by now. Rory had an annoying habit of zoning out during meal times, when some problem had been filed away in the back of her head but continued to process, until finally it popped out and took over all of Rory's attention. Like now.

Setting up a mental count of ten, Vala laid down her fork and casually took hold of Rory's wine glass, which was tilting precariously in Rory's fingers and threatened to dump red liquid all over the white tablecloth. She eased the glass out of Rory's unresponsive fingers on _five_ and set it on the table.

 _One_. Rory shoved her chair back and hurried out of the room, interrupting Emily's tale about some revolutionary's daughter. Knowing Rory was headed for her notebook and was unlikely to come to harm, Vala picked up her fork again and resumed her meal.

"Where's that girl going?" Emily demanded, about to put her napkin on the table and follow Rory.

"Geeze, Mom, give it a rest!" Lorelai exclaimed. "She probably had enough of hearing who Buffy and Sandy are ostracizing at tea this week--"

"Don't take that tone with me!" Emily snapped. Christopher sank lower in his seat. "Richard?"

Richard ignored his wife's request. "Is Rory going to be all right?" he asked Vala.

"Oh, yes, she'll be fine," she reassured the man. "Just give her time to put all of her ideas onto paper and she'll be back for seconds. She's like one of those little wind-up toys you crank up and set on the floor and they spin in circles for a while."

Richard cleared his throat. "I meant while she is away," he clarified.

"Oh." Vala considered that one. The obvious answer was a resounding _no_ , as no one who went to Atlantis came back in the same shape in which they left, but the same could be said about anyone else in the Stargate program. "She'll be on a military base, so she'll be well protected," Vala offered, which wasn't really a lie. If the scientists on Atlantis got into trouble, it wasn't through a lack of military supervision by Sheppard and his well-armed Marines. "Or do you mean mentally? I know she's a little..." Vala made a whirling motion with her hand. "But the Air Force is quite strict about not letting crazy people go on these missions."

"Why would the Air Force take someone who is still only a student and send her on some kind of mission?" Emily asked. "It's ridiculously militaristic, if you ask me."

Vala frowned. "I thought you were part of a paramilitary reserve organization."

"A _what_?"

"Rory said you were part of something to do with your American Revolution?"

Lorelai sat up a little straighter. "Are you talking about the Daughters of the American Revolution?"

"Yes, that was it." Vala decapitated a vegetable stalk on her plate. "Isn't that a military reserve organization?"

Everyone was staring at Vala like she had grown another head. "The Daughters of the American Revolution are not a paramilitary organization," Emily said, and if she was flustered, then Vala took pride in a job well done.

"Ah," Vala said, feigning confusion. "My mistake." She smiled widely at Emily. "This is a truly delicious meal."

Emily fumed.

Five minutes later, Rory hadn't returned and the maid arrived to clear the plate settings. An argument broke out between Emily and Lorelai about the fate of Rory's dinner and Vala took the opportunity to escape into the hall, where Rory sat cross-legged on the patterned floor, still scribbling in her notebook.

"You almost done?" Vala asked, leaning over Rory. "The precursor to the next intergalactic war is carrying on over your impending malnutrition."

"I'm fine," Rory said automatically. As Rory would say the same thing if the world was on fire around her, Vala could only sigh and slide to the ground beside Rory, bumping shoulders.

"Your stories about this place certainly didn't convey the full picture," Vala said.

"Try growing up around it." Rory jammed the cap back on her pen and slapped her notebook closed. "Emily's just worried about me going away." The justification sounded weak, but Vala did not comment. "Some of the men of her class and age may have served in Korea or Vietnam, but very few of their sons went into the military, unless it was to military school and a commission."

"And here is her only granddaughter running away with those devilishly handsome military men and women," Vala said, receiving an elbow in the ribs for her pains. "You do know your grandfather is freaking out."

"Yeah," Rory said quietly. She pulled her legs up to her chest. "What can I say to him except that I'll be coming back?"

"You can start with that," Vala suggested. "And then send him letters and sneak in fantastical stories around the censors. Take pictures of yourself on the ocean with the not-whales."

"That might tip him off to where we are."

"Like he's going to believe it."

A shadow moved into the hall. It was Christopher. "Hey," he said. "Look, Rory, I'm going to take off."

"What?" Rory struggled to her feet, almost falling over Vala twice on her way to verticality. "No, don't go, I know it's awkward, but that's just because this family's made up of Gilmores."

Vala rose more sedately. Looking at Christopher and Rory side by side, Vala had to revise her incredulity that no one had seen Rory's true paternity before. These two had the same blue eyes and very similar features, and they looked related by blood. No wonder Lorelai had never wondered about her daughter.

"I know," Christopher was saying. He flicked a glance at Vala.

"Vala knows," Rory blurted out quickly. Her eyes went wide. "About you and me, or me and not-you--"

"That's cool," Christopher said quickly. He put out a hand, but didn't quite touch Rory's arm.

"So, um, why did you come when Grandma called you?" Rory asked. Her voice wasn't steady.

"Because you're going away," Christopher answered. "I know that things are... complicated now, but there were still those twenty-four years that I thought I was..."

"That you were," Rory said firmly. She closed the distance between them and hugged Christopher tight. "I still love you."

Christopher slowly put his arms around his former daughter, kissing the top of her head. "I still love you too, kid."

Sniffling, Rory drew back. "When I get back, I can come by and see you?"

"You'd better," Christopher said. He squeezed Rory's shoulder. "Do you have any place I can send you letters? GiGi can print now and she's insisting to write everyone she's ever met."

"Mom will have the address," Rory said. "You can write me any time."

"Good." Christopher smiled again. "You take care of yourself."

"And you too," Rory said sternly. "Cancer recover is no joke."

"I know." Christopher smiled at Rory one last time, then headed for the door. He waved back at Rory before he slipped out, leaving the hall in silence.

For only a moment. "How strange would it be if I were to hit on him the next time I saw him?" Vala asked.

Rory made a face. "It is so not allowed."

"Why not? He's not married."

"It's not allowed because I say so. Please don't turn my life into an epic Greek tragedy anymore than you must."

Vala waved off the admonition. "The maid said something about cake. Do you some?"

"The first thing you'll learn in this house is that the cake is a lie." Nevertheless, Rory pulled Vala in the direction of the dinning room.

In their absence, the cake had indeed arrived, along with coffee and tea and little silver spoons. With great self control, Vala didn't even considered taking one home with her as a souvenir.

As Daniel might say, Vala was growing as a law-abiding citizen. Good on her.

* * *

After the dinner finally ended and Rory had hugged her grandparents goodbye, Vala and Rory stood in the driveway, staring up at the November stars while Lorelai carried on one final argument with her mother in the house.

"Do you miss it?" Rory asked suddenly.

"You're going to need to be a little more specific."

"Being up there." Rory waved vaguely at the sky. "On your own."

Vala could have said many things, some of which might even have been true. Instead, she said, "I'll tell you when you come back to Earth."

"Is that to get me to come back?"

"Would that work?" Vala asked hopefully.

Rory didn't answer the question. "One of the things I wanted to do before I left was to tell my mother about Rodney McKay," Rory said, staring up at the sky. "And I tried last night, I really did, but I couldn't get anything out. I couldn't even start. It was like I was choking on the words. I couldn't even send an email to Dr. McKay about... me."

"What about that message in the data burst from seven months ago?"

"I sort of pulled it?" Rory tried to smile. "I wonder if Colonel Carter told Dr. McKay. Do you think she would?"

Vala put her arm around Rory's shoulders, wondering for the hundredth time what Adria might have been like if she hadn't been Adria, and if she was being unfair to Rory by thinking such things. "I think Sam is a very smart woman, and part of being smart is to know when to avoid telling one's subordinates about their long-lost children. As for your mother... It's hard to tell people that you're not who they think you are," Vala said. "Sometimes, it's easier to let them think that you're who they want you to be."

Rory turned her head to look at Vala. "So who do people think you are?"

"No one really knows the mystery that is me," Vala said in an attempt to sound light-hearted.

To Vala's great lack of surprise, Rory didn't buy it. "I know you and I like you."

The calm Connecticut night air was suddenly too thin to breathe. "What makes you think you know anything about me?"

"I know you save the world, not because they pay you for it or anything, but because it's the right thing to do. It's not because you're surrounded by people who do the same thing, because that never makes anyone do anything for long. You do the right thing because you're a good person."

"You've been talking to Daniel again," Vala said. There must have been something in that cake, because her throat was starting to hurt.

"There are worse things in this universe than to have a man who loves you and thinks you're a good person."

Now there was something in Vala's eye, making her get all teary. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sometimes it's easier to be who the people we love want us to be."

"I don't love Daniel," Vala said a little too quickly.

"Yes you do." Rory fixed Vala with those odd all-seeing blue eyes of hers. "There's nothing wrong with being in love."

Vala wished heartily that she could be _somewhere else_ but unsurprisingly, the heavens didn't split and no Asguard beam swept her up off the earth. Things like that never happened to her. "Love makes you weak," she said, voice tight. "It tears you apart."

"I know. But we still fall in love."

Vala's laughter was humorless. "What does that say about us?"

"That we're human?"

"What about you?" Vala asked, deciding that she'd had enough of this conversation. "Have you ever been in love?"

"Twice." Rory didn't sound very happy about admitting that, but Vala didn't feel vindicated. She just felt... sad.

She slipped her arm through Rory's, feeling the girl shiver in the cold. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

The house door opened to disgorge Lorelai. "All right, everybody in," the woman said, stomping towards her car. "We've got a date back in Stars Hollow ten minutes ago. Let's get a move-on."

"What are you talking about?" Rory asked. "It's almost ten."

"I know," Lorelai said. "We should have been out of there sooner, but my mother--"

"Don't blame Grandma for the longest family dinner in history," Rory interrupted. "And don't blame Christopher either. What are you talking about?"

Lorelai flung the car into gear and drove down the drive. "Since I knew this was going to be your last Friday night in the Hollow for a few months, we're having a town to-do. Movie night and bonfire at Miss Patty's, complete with hotdogs and s'mores. Everyone's going to be there."

"What's a 'to-do'?" Vala asked.

"It's halfway between a shindig and blow-out, but with more sugar," said Rory, who continued to stare at her mother. "When did you plan this? Didn't Taylor pitch a fit?"

"For seven thousand dollars, Taylor's agreed to keep his yap shut for one night." Lorelai cornered a little fast. "You didn't think this town would let you ship off to 'Nam without a goodbye, did you?"

"For the last time, I'm not going to Vietnam!"

"So where are you going?"

"Mom!"

Vala relaxed into her seat, watching the strange American countryside flash past the windows. As much as Rory was concerned that Lorelai wouldn't understand about Rodney McKay, Vala suspected that nothing could turn Lorelai from her daughter for very long. If only Rory had such confidence in her mother.

In three days, Rory Gilmore would walk through that wormhole and into the Pegasus Galaxy, away from Vala and the SGC and her safe existence, and into the mess of Atlantis and her unsuspecting father's life.

Vala would have given almost anything to witness that little confrontation, but SG-1 had a mission on Tuesday and Vala had a team she wasn't willing to walk away from.

Maybe one day Rory would come back, and Vala could convince the General to let her join SG-1. The more the merrier, right?

One day.

And maybe she could get Sam to videotape that first family meeting.


	13. Family Ties

This was it. Rory took a deep breath and hoped her knees weren't shaking too visibly. In one minute, the Stargate would open to Pegasus and Rory would be off to another galaxy.

"It's not too late to change your mind," Vala said at Rory's side, giving voice to the idea Rory had been fighting against all morning.

But she'd gone over this with herself all night, and she had an answer for Vala. "Yes it is," Rory said with a smile. Vala's hopeful expression fell. "It'll be okay, I'm only authorized for a six-month mission. I'll see you soon."

"Ha! You might think it's only six months, then an unstoppable robot army will come out of nowhere and eat your head!" Vala exclaimed.

At the sound, Daniel turned away from the Atlantis replacement scientists and came over to the women. "Careful, Vala, you'll scare the Marines," he said.

His voice was bland, but it made Rory look over his shoulder to the gaggle of young men by the gate. The shortest of the crowd had gone pale, even though his expression did nothing to give him away. _He looks so young_ , Rory thought, forgetting for a moment that she was only twenty-five herself. "More than likely I'll be the one to run screaming from the room," said Rory. She gave the Marines a slight smile before turning back to Daniel. "Do you have any advice?"

Vala made an obscene hand gesture Rory took to mean 'suck up', but luckily for them all, Daniel didn't see. "Just do what you do here," he suggested. "Work in a team and listen to your instincts. You've proven you're great in the field."

The praise was distinctly off-hand, but still, Rory blushed.

"You've got everything you need?" Daniel continued.

"I hope so," Rory said. High above them, the Stargate began to rumble and spin. Sudden panic flared in Rory's stomach, and she gripped the strap of her backpack just a little tighter to keep her hands from shaking. "I think I'm suddenly out of time."

She turned to face the Stargate just in time to see the wormhole engaging. The imposing and magnificent sight never failed to send a thrill of excitement through her. She felt like Alice about to tumble through the looking glass, into a world of impossibility on the other side. She wished she could have shared this with Lorelai.

A familiar voice came over the loudspeaker, saying, "You have a go to Atlantis." Rory glanced up to see General Jack O'Neill in the control room beside General Landry and Colonel Mitchell. He gave her a wink through the glass. "Marines, move out!"

The highest-ranked Marine, a Captain of indeterminate hair color, shouted an order at the gathered men and they moved en mass up the ramp. The scientists followed slowly, one of them pulling a cart filled with equipment.

Then it was Rory's turn. On the other side of that wormhole was Atlantis and the knowledge of the Ancients... and Rodney McKay. She took a deep breath and put her foot on the ramp.

"Hold on!" Vala exclaimed. She grabbed Rory's shoulders and planted a big kiss squarely on the cheek. When Vala let go, Rory stumbled back and up the ramp. Daniel's smirk wasn't helping any. Vala just smiled in a self-satisfied way and made shooing motions with her hands. "Go on now, you've got a city to see!" the woman said.

Rory shook her head, putting Vala's odd way of saying goodbye behind her. Vala was right, Atlantis did await. Straightening her shoulders, Rory walked to the event horizon. Just before she went thought, she turned back and gave General O'Neill a wave in the control room. He gave her the thumbs up.

Rory took a deep breath and stepped across the galaxy.

* * *

"And that concludes the debrief on P5X-2Y7," John finished. It didn't really matter, as no one had been listening to him for the last ten minutes, but he persevered. "Does anyone have anything regarding the next point on the agenda?"

No one did. No one ever did. All these team meetings did was give his team new and exciting ways to ignore him. It was worse now, because Teyla had the baby to play with, and Ronon only ever came because of the muffins. And Rodney...

Well, Rodney was even more distracted than usual today.

"So I decided that the new Marines we're getting in today's dialup should shadow existing teams to learn about the galaxy," John tried again. Ronon never looked up from his knife-sharpening exercise. "I thought I'd try surgically grafting locator beacons to them so we'd be able to find them easier when they fell down their first hole."

Teyla broke first, giving John an annoyed glance.

"Or we could just make them go out in gaggles, like sending first-graders to the bathroom in packs."

On behalf of children everywhere, baby Torren blew a raspberry at the suggestion.

"Or airdrop them on the mainland and see how long it takes them to reenact Lord of the Flies."

Teyla could take no more. "John," she scolded. "They are trained warriors. They will be fine."

"Being on Atlantis isn't the same thing as being at the SGC, where you get to go home in the evening. Look what happened when we first got here." No, wait. That hadn't come out the way John intended. "If someone had tied us up when we arrived..." Hell, that wasn't it either. Teyla's increasing incredulity wasn't helping John's mental processes. "The new Marines are my responsibility and I want to make sure they're well-prepared." There. That at least sounded coherent.

"By abandoning them on the mainland and making them worship insects?" Teyla asked. Torren drooled up at them.

"It was a metaphor."

Ronon grunted. "It's still a good idea," he said, flipping his knife over in his hand. "Toughen them up."

"See?"

Teyla shook her head. "Colonel Carter will not allow you to abandon the new Marines on the mainland," she said with finality. "Of that much I am sure."

John knew that too, but what fun was that? He popped a piece of muffin into his mouth for something to do. No matter the variety of muffins he brought to the meetings, he always ended up with carrot, when all he ever wanted was lemon poppy seed. But an enjoyable breakfast wasn't worth having Rodney freak out about 'airborne death particles' again.

Such were the sacrifices John made for his team.

"Who else is coming?" Ronon asked, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that he really hadn't been paying any attention. "Just more Marines?"

John shrugged. "All I got was the list of soldiers," he said. "Colonel Carter sent the other lists to the head of the science department."

As one, the three adults and Torren turned to the head of the science department. Who never looked up.

"Am I actually speaking out loud?" John wondered.

"Hey McKay," Ronon said, kicking Rodney's chair for good measure. That finally got the man's attention. "What's going on?"

Rodney shook his head hard. "She's coming," was all he said.

Ronon looked at Sheppard, who could only shrug. "Who's coming?" John asked. He smiled. "Hey, should we have baked her a cake?"

"You're not nearly as cute as you think you are," Rodney muttered.

"Actually, most people find me quite witty," John said. He was ignored.

"It's Doogie Howser and Wesley Crusher, all rolled into one annoying package," Rodney said.

John tried to work his way through that one, but there was nothing to hold on to. He leaned his hip against the table and picked the raisins from Rodney's muffin.

"The SGC is sending my nemesis and I just know Sam Carter is behind this," Rodney went on.

John frowned. "Since when do you have a nemesis?"

Rodney refused to look at him.

"Because I've never heard of this nemesis," John went on, enjoying the feel of the word in his mouth. "You seem like the kind of person to mention a nemesis."

Rodney stopped typing. "What kind of person is that?" he demanded.

John made himself stop before he alienated Rodney completely. Ronon, who had no such compunctions, said, "Like the kind of person who talks a lot."

Rodney threw his hands up. "Okay, so she's not my nemesis! She's the pebble in my shoe, the-- the toast crumbs in my butter!"

John made a face at the mental image.

"All put together to ruin my day, and Sam put her in my department! Like she'll be of any use at all! Some Connecticut Yankee with a Yale _journalism_ degree in my court!"

Something in John's mind pricked. He lowered his muffin top to stare at Rodney. What was it?

"--And all I get is a week's notice that some child who's convinced she can extend the ZPM's life by half, based on science she probably pulled out of a My Little Pony half-time show--"

John interrupted to ask, "What's her name?" That idea of a Connecticut kid with a Yale journalism degree wouldn't leave him alone.

Without missing a beat, Rodney look at John with wide blue eyes and said, "Rory Gilmore."

John's stomach flopped over. This had to be some kind of joke. Rory Gilmore? Couldn't be coming to Atlantis. Not the Rory Gilmore he'd slammed into on a New York street all those years ago, a girl with cobalt-blue eyes and that curious McKay expression on her face. Not the Rory Gilmore that had been born nine months after a young Rodney McKay had left Hartford, Connecticut, in 1984.

This had to be some other Rory Gilmore.

...Who graduated from Yale with a journalism degree.

It was Teyla who broke through his little freak-out by asking, "John, are you all right?"

He had no answer for her. He pushed away from the table, scattering crumbs everywhere. "Are you sure it's Rory Gilmore?" he demanded.

"What are you blathering about?"

"Not some other name that sounds like Rory? Like..." His mind scattered around unlikely-sounding appellations. Gory? Snorey? "How about Corey?"

Rodney stared at John as if the man had lost his mind, which wasn't that far removed from the truth. "Yes, I'm sure!" He stood. "What does it matter to you?"

Teyla rose, her son in hand, and said with that infuriating intuition, "I believe that John knows this woman."

Rodney's eyes grew impossibly wide. "How could you possibly know her?" he demanded. "She's only twenty!"

"Twenty-five," John said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

With the way Rodney was gaping at him, John was pretty sure he was about to be accused of some high debauchery. So instead of waiting for it, he turned on his heel and left the room. His confused thoughts finally started to sort themselves out as he strode through the corridors of Atlantis. _Why didn't you warn me about this?_ he mentally demanded of the city.

Atlantis hummed disapprovingly at him.

John could hear Rodney and Teyla behind him, their voices muted soft with distance. Ronon's bass punctuated the melodic line, indistinct and rumbling. John walked faster.

He made it to the Gateroom before the wormhole opened from the Midway Station. Sam Carter stood at the top of the stairs, her non-regulation long blonde hair tied up in a loose pony-tail. She greeted John with a nod. "Colonel."

"Colonel," John replied automatically as he stopped at Sam's side, down a step and totally off-balance. Why was the Gateroom so packed? Practically everyone on-base was there, in the control room or huddled nearby. Zelenka was helping Chuck with diagnostics, Lorne stood lounging with a bunch of Marines by the lower hallways. And what looked like the entire Jumper repair crew was taking a coffee break by the walkway to Sam's office. Didn't anyone have any work to do?

John wondered if he could resign his commission and escape back to Earth before Rory Gilmore (that _had_ to be a mistake) came through.

"So," John said hesitantly. Sam looked at him curiously. John cleared his throat and tried again. "McKay said that he's got a girl coming through the Gate?" And how wrong did that sound?

Was it his imagination, or had Sam winced? "I don't know if I'd go that far," Sam said. Her hands twisted together, and it was John's turn to cast suspicions on Sam. He knew his CO, and she was certainly hiding something. "She's not coming through only for McKay, there's also a lot of work she can do here she can't accomplish back on Earth."

"Huh." John blinked at Sam. "Wait, what do you mean, 'not only'?"

McKay barreled past them, making John jump. "All right, is she here yet?" he demanded.

Sam exhaled. "Not yet, McKay."

"Well, while we wait then, we can find out from Sheppard exactly how he knows Doogie Crusher." The last bit was a little pointed, even for McKay.

Sam's mild Rodney-induced irritation morphed into an uncertain frown aimed at Sheppard. "You know Rory Gilmore?" she demanded, a myriad of questions in her gaze.

In that moment, John somehow _knew_ that Sam knew something. He didn't know what, but he wasn't the only one keeping secrets. He opened his mouth to demand what Sam knew and how long she'd known it, when the wormhole from Earth opened and a gaggle of Marines and scientists cleared the event horizon and a small figure stepped through after them, and John found himself staring at the biggest complication of his whole damned life.

* * *

She'd have to rewrite all she knew about light physics, Rory thought distantly as she walked through the event horizon into Atlantis. _Atlantis_. Brilliant sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows to illuminate the Gateroom. Light moved carefully around this room, not splintering as light _should._

She suddenly remembered where she'd seen this phenomenon before, around the Earth Stargate deep underground at Cheyenne Mountain, but this was impossibility writ large, light turned to spun glass, dripping liquid illumination over the brilliant naquadah-laced surfaces.

It was beyond stunning. It was overwhelming.

And it was making her head ache.

A familiar figure detached itself from a gathering on the stairs and moved towards her. Light shone through blonde hair, but it took Rory a few moments to recognize Colonel Sam Carter. She gripped the strap of her knapsack and tried desperately to pull herself together. She hadn't gotten lost in the light for so many months now and she wasn't going to embarrass herself now.

"Ms. Gilmore," Colonel Carter said, smiling at Rory and holding out her hand. Rory wondered if Sam could see the way the blue lights from the windows curved ever-so-slightly before they hit the floor. "Welcome to Atlantis."

Rory made herself stay still and shake Sam's hand. At least Sam was somewhat familiar in this strange place. "Thanks," she said. "How are the repairs going?"

Sam grimaced. "Slowly. We had a lot of work to do." She glanced over Rory's shoulder. The Marines were being corralled by a man in uniform, who gave Sam a brief nod before turning back to his shepherding. Sam drew a deep breath. "While Major Lorne takes care of the Marines, there's someone who you should meet."

Rory's heart started pounding. Oh god, this was it. Almost a year of work and determination, at learning about everything she could to find Rodney McKay, and this was it.

She wasn't ready.

Sam stepped aside, but the man hovering behind her wasn't Rodney McKay at all. He was tall, all angles and sharp edges under his uniform, and not even the curved chase of light could soften him.

And, impossibilities of impossibilities, she _knew_ him.

"You!" she exclaimed before she thought. "You're the jerk who stole my luggage tag in New York!"

The man's shoulders curved forward slightly, body defensive even as he raised his eyebrows. "That was an accident," he stammered.

Later, Rory would blame her reaction on the stress of the situation, but now, she wasn't really thinking. "A luggage tag that survived the delicate attention of Parisian baggage handlers just 'accidentally' came loose in your hand?"

The man lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "There was the bike and the hot dog vendor and the 'pulling you out of traffic' going on, it could have happened," he said quickly.

Rory felt an echo of the adrenaline surge she'd felt that day at tumbling towards the road, and the hard pressure on her arm as someone pulled her back firmly onto the sidewalk. It had been this man, with his bright green eyes and the same faint edge of stubble on his chin.

Only that had been New York City, and this was the Pegasus Galaxy, and any potential coincidence melted under the impossibility.

Her irrational irritation dialed back under the onslaught of memory. "I didn't thank you, then, for saving my life," Rory said. She watched the tension in the man's shoulders relax. "So thank you." She waited a moment. "And I want my luggage tag back."

The man winced. "I don't exactly have it with me," he hedged. "It's with my stuff on Earth."

"You kept a random luggage tag off someone you saved from certain death?" That bordered on stalkerish behavior. "It's not like you couldn't find out who it belonged to."

"Yeah, with the whole address thing," the man said. He smiled sheepishly at her, and Rory felt something twist in her middle. That smile should have been illegal. "John Sheppard."

"Rory Gilmore. But you know that, with the stealing of my luggage tag."

Someone cleared her throat at their side, and belatedly Rory remembered she was in the middle of a very crowded room in another galaxy. "Also because he's military commander on this base and he's supposed to read the daily briefing notes," Sam Carter said. Her voice was distinctly amused.

John remained silent.

"But that's not what I meant." Sam indicated a man standing just behind John, and Rory immediately pushed problems with Sheppards out of her head. "Rory Gilmore, meet Dr. Rodney McKay."

He didn't look much like his pictures, Rory processed as she looked. At him. At her father. His hair was close-cropped, his jacket worn on the edges and a tablet computer held to his side in the same way Rory carried around coffee cups as a defense mechanism.

As she looked at him, he seemed to lose some steam. "Hi," he said finally. "Welcome to Atlantis." He fidgeted with the edge of his computer as he searched for words. Then he blurted out, "Your calculations in the tertiary energy complex are wrong."

"No, they're not!" Rory argued automatically.

"Yes, they are! You're using a base eight variable just to show off! Base ten would work just fine--"

"The original fractal structure of the ZPM was designed on a base eight variable--"

"How could you possibly know that?"

"It has to be! There's no other explanation for the layering effect! If the Ancients were working off a base ten variable structure, any sort of power layering would have resulted in the ZPM exploding and taking half the planet with it when it dropped to half-power!"

"Excuse me," Sam interrupted the argument. Belatedly, Rory realized that almost everyone in the room had stopped working to stare at them. "As fascinating as this argument is, there's something we need to discuss."

"What?" McKay asked, a frown still creasing his forehead.

"Up in my office."

"What?" McKay asked again.

"Up. In. My. Office," Sam repeated. With a quick roll of the eyes, McKay turned towards the stairs. Sam gave Rory a weary smile. "You can leave your bag here, we'll have it delivered to your quarters."

The only other person in the immediate vicinity was John Sheppard. He held out his hand. "I'll schlep it over."

Rory handed him the bag reluctantly. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm not going to rifle your things on your first day here. Promise."

She didn't find that phrasing to be reassuring, but Sam was moving towards her office and Rory had no choice but to follow.

The machinery in the control room hummed faintly at her, snagging her attention, but she kept her gaze forward and didn't let herself be dragged off-course by the distraction. Everyone was so busy, working hard, and Rory had a sudden surge of panic. She didn't belong here. She only worked with numbers, not with real things. Not like these people.

The hum of the machinery reverberated in a feedback loop that set her teeth on edge. But the pills Dr. Lam had given her were in her bag, and that was yards in the wrong direction in the hands of a man who had looked at her like he knew her deepest secrets.

She kept moving forward.

In the sparsely decorated office, McKay flung himself onto the couch. Sam waited until Rory was in the room before closing the door behind her. The nervous energy in her limbs from Gate travel and lingering adrenaline from the unexpected scientific argument wouldn't let Rory sit. The collection of photographs on one shelf drew Rory's attention. Familiar faces stared out at Rory from behind glass; Daniel, Cam, Vala, Teal'c and Jack and Cassandra Frasier, along with people Rory had only seen memorialized on paper. Jacob Carter. Janet Frasier. Jonas Quinn.

"Rory?"

Rory snatched her fingers back from where she'd been about to touch the frame holding an old photo of SG-1. But she would not apologize. "Everyone says hi," she told Sam, skirting the couch and perching on the edge of an uncomfortable chair. "General O'Neill sent a care package. It's in my bag."

At the mention of Jack's name, Sam smiled tiredly. "That could be potentially unfortunate," she said. "I don't suppose he attached any warnings? 'Will explode if dropped'?"

"There was something about not setting it on fire, but that's a good cautionary tale for life in general." Rory edged back on her seat, not sure she could take much more of the easy banter without going crazy. "I'll get it for you later."

"Thanks." Sam glanced over at McKay, who was watching the exchange with growing impatience. "You're here for a reason, Rodney."

"Are you going to tell me what that is?" he demanded.

"Yes, I am." Sam sat back and unnecessarily straightened several objects on the desk. "Which I'll get to any day now," she said under her breath.

Rory breathed deeply. This was her story. She had to be the one to tell Rodney. It wasn't Sam's responsibility, when Rory hadn't been able to find a way to explain over all these months. "Dr. McKay, there's something I need to... I mean..." she stammered to a stop. It wasn't helping that Rodney was staring at her like she had brain damage. She tried again. "Do you remember a woman named Lorelai Gilmore?"

A deep frown creased Rodney's forehead. "What are you talking about?" he asked uncomfortably. "I did know someone with that name, years ago." The tips of his ears were going red. "Why?"

Rory rubbed her hands together, wondering briefly at the liquid drip of light over her skin. "She's, um... She's my mother."

"So?" he demanded, but the question was too soon. Rory wondered how long it might take someone as smart as he was to do the math, play with the similarities in names, to subtract her age from the years separating him from Lorelai. His eyes widened, even as he pushed the suspicion away, shutting down.

His immediate reaction closed Rory's throat.

"Rodney, when Ms. Gilmore came to the SGC in March, they did a battery of tests on her," Sam said, her voice dancing carefully on the razor's edge of compassion and steel. "There is... I suppose you could call it a definite genetic relationship."

"I'm your daughter," Rory said, words dropping like stones into the silence.

Rodney didn't move. He didn't even blink. He only stared at Rory with wide blue eyes. Then a loud crash from out in the Gateroom broke the stillness and he looked away. "This isn't possible," he said quickly, standing with jerky motions.

"It's possible," Sam told him. "I've seen the tests. It's not a mistake."

Rodney held the tablet computer across his chest like a shield. "You've seen the tests?" he demanded. "When?"

The little bit of color in Sam's cheeks faded. It took her a moment to answer. "Last month, when I was on Earth."

"And you didn't tell me? Why didn't you tell me?" Rodney's rising questions stopped suddenly. He looked down at the Gateroom, then back at Rory. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Rodney jumped back before she could figure out what to offer up. "Welcome to Atlantis, I have to go," he said in a hurry.

"Rodney--" Sam tried, but the man kept moving backwards until he bounced off the door. He fumbled with the latch and almost fell out onto the bridge. Somehow, he recovered and made a hasty exit through the control room. Everyone paused in their work to watch him go.

A lump rose in Rory's throat, threatening to cut off her oxygen. Even in her wildest nightmares, she'd never envisioned this response. He hadn't even been able to look at her.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, jerking Rory back from growing hysteria.

Rory swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She would not cry. Not in front of Colonel Carter, not on her very first day in Atlantis. She was here for a reason beyond Rodney McKay. "What happens next?" she asked, voice wavering slightly. She coughed and tried again. "I mean, what do I do now?"

Sam watched her carefully. "Someone will show you to your quarters and you will report to Dr. Keller for a preliminary medical exam. It's routine."

Rory nodded once. "I shouldn't take up any more of your time, then."

"Rory, he'll come around," Sam offered.

Frankly, Rory doubted that. But she couldn't afford to think about that right now. "Thanks for letting me come to Atlantis, Colonel."

Sam sighed. "Get back to me with that in a week," she said. She motioned at a Marine passing through the control room. The man immediately changed course to stand in the doorway. "Staff Sergeant, can you please show Ms. Gilmore to her quarters?"

"Yes, ma'am." The Marine motioned at the stairs. "It's not far, ma'am."

Rory smiled wanly at Sam. "Thanks." Then she followed the staff sergeant across the control room.

Once out of the colonel's office, the man's smile was open and cheerful. "Staff Sergeant Carlos Herrera, ma'am," he introduced himself.

"I'm Rory Gilmore," she said, focusing on the _now_ and not the pain in her head or the lump in her throat. "How long have you been on Atlantis?"

"Just over a year. I came out here with Colonel Carter's main contingent." He looked around, aping secretiveness. "So you're the wunderkind sent to challenge Dr. McKay?"

Even the mention of the man's name sent Rory's heart racing. "I don't know if I'd say that," she said carefully.

"Still, it'll be interesting. He works better with competition." He winked. "Dr. Zelenka wants to meet you, soon."

Rory gave the staff sergeant a look. "Are you always this open with the new people?"

The man's smile split into a grin. "I've been working with Dr. Zelenka for months. I'm only giving out the commonly known scuttlebutt."

The walk to her new room didn't take long, thanks to a matter transport closet that ramped her headache up into migraine territory. With instructions on how to get to the infirmary and a "Call me Carlos," the staff sergeant left her at the door.

She stepped into the cold room, with its big glass windows overlooking the sea. Someone had placed her luggage on the bed, beside a stack of linens. A piece of paper was attached to the bag with a zip-cord.

_I'm sorry I stole your luggage tag in New York, so I made you a new one. Welcome to Atlantis._

Sheppard

PS: If you don't like your room, we'll get you a different one. There's a good view of the south pier from this one.

He'd added a scribbled smiley face after his name. Rory stared at the paper until tears clouded her vision with the disappointments of the day and pushed down on the ache in her head, and she started to cry tears of loneliness and pain.

What was she doing here?

* * *

John finally ran Rodney to ground in the ZPM control room. None of the scientists liked working down here, preferring the upper-level labs with their natural light and sufficient air flow. But there Rodney was, poking away at the tangle of wires in the wall.

"Hey," John said in greeting. Rodney did nothing to acknowledge his presence. "So... how's your nemesis?"

The resulting silence was unnerving.

John bit his lower lip, trying to figure out what to say next. "What was with that ZPM argument in the Gateroom, huh? Sounds like you two have plenty to talk about."

Rodney slammed the wall panel shut, the noise cracking through the air like a shot. John shut his mouth. When Rodney turned around, John wasn't prepared for the guarded expression on his face. "That was her, in New York."

"What?"

"Years ago, when we were in New York with Elizabeth." As he spoke, Rodney wrapped a handful of red wires around his power monitor. The motion didn't quite disguise the shaking of his hands. "You almost knocked some girl into the road and yanked the luggage tag off her bag. That was her."

"I didn't know it was her then," John argued. He tried to stand straight against the sinking feeling in his gut. "It was just some girl."

Rodney shoved his tools back into the carrying bag. "Two weeks later you showed up asking me where I was in February 1984. You asked me if I'd been in Hartford. Why were you asking me things like that?"

John couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"It's just--" Rodney stopped wrestling with the bag strap. "I can get Sam not telling me for a month, because seriously, who the hell could have gotten that even with DNA tests and genetic mapping? I don't like it but _I get it_ , because it's Sam and it's a month. What I don't understand is you!"

John wrapped his fingers around the sharp edges of the console, his nails scrapping uselessly on the metal. "So, Rory really is your daughter?" he said awkwardly.

Rodney stopped talking, stopped moving, stopped everything. For a long minute, he just stared at John with a barely hidden mix of hurt and anger. Then he grabbed his computer and stormed out of the room.

He never looked back.

John was left in the empty room. Around him, Atlantis hummed softly, moving up and down chords like she did on quiet days. Even so, there was no one around to hear John when he said, "I'm sorry," and so it really didn't make any difference.


	14. Off the Rails

"I don't like it."

Teyla sighed, shifting Torren around on her hip. "It is not up to you to like it, Ronon," she pointed out. "You do not have any control over the people these Earthers send here."

Ronon shook his head. "Something's going on," he said as if Teyla had not spoken. "McKay's been freaking out over this kid for weeks and today we find out that both Sheppard and Carter know her? Now McKay's missing?"

"Rodney often goes off to conduct repairs on the city," Teyla retorted, but there was no real weight behind the declaration.

Ronon rolled his eyes and was about to round the corner when Jennifer Keller came around the bend in the wall from the other direction and bounced off Ronon's chest. She stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide in her face.

"Dr. Keller, are you all right?" Teyla asked.

Keller looked from Ronon to Teyla, then back to Ronon. "I-- McKay--" She stopped suddenly. "I can't talk about it," she blurted out, then blinked hard and wandered away down the hall.

Ronon watched her go. "That's weird," he said. Why were all the Earthers on Atlantis acting so strange?

Or rather, why had they started acting weird after the morning's wormhole had brought Marines and that girl?

Something was up. And since McKay and Sheppard had vanished, that meant Ronon needed to figure out what that something was.

"I'm going to find her," Ronon announced suddenly.

"Find who?" Teyla asked, trying to stop Torren from yanking on her necklace. "Jennifer?"

"No, that girl Sheppard was talking about." Ronon wasn't sure he remembered her name; he'd been concentrating on his knife earlier when Sheppard and McKay started their riff that morning. "This has something to do with her."

Little Torren opened his mouth and let out a piercing screech at being denied something to pull. Teyla bounced the baby to quiet him, but to no avail. He just screamed louder.

"I'll let you know what I find out," Ronon said. Torren's high-pitched yelling echoed after Ronon down the hall. Teyla muttered something scathing at Ronon's retreating back, but Ronon could pretend that he hadn't heard.

The sun was high in the sky as Ronon began his search. It was around the time the Atlanteans started to gather for their midday meal, so Ronon decided to look in the most obvious place first. If this girl was like the other scientists, she'd be there for food.

Sure enough, Ronon spotted the girl alone at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. Her legs were drawn up to her chest as she tapped slowly on a tablet computer. She seemed even smaller than she had in the Gateroom, facing off with Sheppard and McKay. Now, she was curled in on herself, as if she were trying to avoid drawing attention to herself.

Ronon kept a subtle eye on her as he loaded up a tray with food. She had all the outward appearances of vigilance; sitting with her back to a solid wall, at the end of the table to affect a quick escape. But he noticed that she never looked up at approaching footsteps.

Strange.

Ronon took his tray and made his way over to the girl's table. She didn't seem to notice him looming over her, so intent was her concentration on the computer.

He'd picked up enough on the Earthers' customs in his years there to expect that just sitting down across from her might convey the wrong impression. So he cleared his throat loudly and waited.

The girl almost dropped her computer to the table. Eyes huge in her face, she stared up at Ronon. "Hi."

"Hey." He pointed at the empty chair across from her. "Can I sit?"

"Of course," she stammered, pulling her tray back over to her side of the table. "Am I in your chair?"

She sounded curious, not apprehensive, and inwardly Ronon let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure he could deal with another Earther, female or male, who believed the stories about his being some wild long-haired mountain-dweller. "That's not my chair," Ronon said as he sat down. He took advantage of the pause in the conversation to take a bite of the chicken sandwich. "So, you know McKay?"

The girl sat up straight, her hands moving restlessly on the tabletop. "We're working on the same things, and so the SGC decided to send me here. I'm Rory," she added in a rush.

"Ronon," he gave in return, around a mouthful of apple. "Where'd you meet Sheppard?"

Rory winced. "He pulled me out of traffic, in New York. But that was a few years ago."

"What were you doing standing in traffic?" he asked.

"I wasn't doing it on purpose," Rory protested immediately, her shoulders easing out of the extreme tension she'd been holding in. How old was the girl, anyway? Ronon wondered. Sheppard had said she was twenty-five, which translated to only a little younger than himself. But she looked much younger. Maybe it was her height. "There was a bicycle and a hot-dog vendor and the whole thing was like a tired rerun of an existential French play and Lieutenant-Colonel Sheppard just happened to be there to haul me back from a car-versus-pedestrian ending."

Ronon chewed on his meal as he considered the girl. He'd only understood about half the words she'd spoken, which was about in keeping with his conversations with McKay. It must be a scientist thing, he decided, because Rory was reminding him of McKay all over the place.

"And then he stole something off my suitcase and I meet him three years later in another galaxy," Rory finished. "What about you?"

Ronon searched back in his mind for the original question. Ah, right, about meeting Sheppard. "I knocked him out and tied him and Teyla up in a cave."

"Oh." The girl sat back to think that over. "Why?"

Ronon shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

If Rory had any response to that, Ronon never found out. A shadow fell over the table, heralding the arrival of Colonel Carter. The woman gave Ronon a quick nod, which he returned, then she turned to Rory. "Miss Gilmore," the Colonel said in greeting. "How are you settling in?"

"Fine, ma'am," Rory said, her back painfully straight as she stared up at the other woman.

"Good." Carter's eyes fell on Rory's computer. "Are you set up on the network yet?"

Rory shook her head, letting one hand fall possessively on the small computer. "Staff Sergeant Herrera gave me the tablet, but to sign onto the network I need approval from the department head and..." To Ronon's surprise, the girl reddened. "I didn't know where to find Dr. McKay."

Carter clenched her jaw. "So you wouldn't have received my email about an orientation today on your projects," she stated, her annoyance was thick. Rory opened her mouth to say something, but Carter held up a hand to stop her. "Don't worry about it, I should have realized that McKay's being... well, McKay." She reached for Rory's computer. "We'll reschedule for tomorrow morning." The woman tapped on the screen a few times. "One of the benefits of being the boss is being the head of every department," she informed Rory, handing back the computer. "You're all set up now. If you have any problems you can ask Dr. Zelenka."

"Thank you, ma'am," Rory said, the color finally beginning to fade from her cheeks. "I'm sorry I missed the meeting--"

"Not your fault," Carter cut her off. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a department head to eviscerate." She gave Rory an anticipatory smile. "Miss Gilmore, Ronon." And with that, Colonel Carter stalked away, Earthers scattering out of her path like dead leaves.

Rory wilted back into her seat, staring after Carter. "He's really taking this Paris-competition to insane heights," she muttered to herself.

Ronon watched the girl through narrowed eyes. He was missing something important, something about the girl that Carter obviously knew. McKay could be irritating, but he secretly loved getting new people to yell at. He put them all to work at once, setting everyone up on the network to receive lots of messages and meetings on their first day. Even with people he despised.

He never vanished on someone's first day.

So, Ronon reasoned, something else was going on. But what?

As if reading his thoughts, Teyla appeared out of nowhere, a now-calm Torren in her arms. She slid into the chair beside Ronon and smiled benevolently at Rory in her best trader-face.

Ronon wanted to roll his eyes.

"Greetings," Teyla said, inclining her head. "I am Teyla Emmagen. I did not have a chance earlier to welcome you to Atlantis."

"Thanks-- I mean, hello," Rory replied, appearing slightly flustered. "It's good to finally get here. I mean, after you guys were out of contact for six months. But you knew that, because you were here." She jerked her hands off the table and almost sent her coffee cup careening to the floor. "I'm Rory Gilmore," she said in a rushed afterthought.

Ronon settled into his chair to watch the show. The undercurrents in this first meeting were very interesting indeed.

Teyla took no notice of Rory's behavior, only shifted Torren around so the boy faced the table. "It is good to be in contact with Earth once again," Teyla said.

Ronon opened his mouth to protest that the over-reliance on Earth made the Atlanteans soft and lazy, when someone kicked him in the leg. Fine, he'd let Teyla continue in her interrogation. For now.

"I know Doctor McKay has been very interested in your arrival," Teyla continued, her expression blank and clueless. At the name, Rory looked away. Her gaze caught the sight of the city through the windows, brilliant under a blue sky. For the briefest of instants, her attention was completely fixed on the city. She jerked her head around in a moment, clear blue eyes fixed on Teyla, but Ronon knew what he had seen.

McKay did exactly the same thing when caught up in his science work, complete to the expression on his face and the wideness of his eyes.

What was going on?

Rory collected herself enough to pick up her coffee cup. "Dr. McKay and I are working on similar areas from different angles," she said, managing a smile. "I've been working on ZPM technology at the SGC."

Teyla lifted Torren onto the tabletop, where he looked around curiously and would serve as a potent distracter from the questions Ronon knew she was about to ask. "Dr. McKay mentioned earlier that you have training in another field?"

As interrogation went, this question was extraordinarily blunt, but Rory seemed more engrossed in the way Torren waved his fists in the air than in dissecting Teyla's motivations. "I'm a journalist, or at least I was," Rory told Teyla, while offering her cloth napkin to Torren. The boy took the cloth curiously. "But I started looking into mathematics and physics back in the start of the year. And here I am."

Ronon would have to remember the effectiveness of Torren's interrogation-by-cuteness for later.

Teyla nodded as if that was what she expected. Ronon knew her well enough to know she was still not satisfied by the answers. "And Colonel Sheppard?"

Rory tore her gaze off the baby. "What about him?"

"When did you and he meet?"

"Meet?" Rory frowned at Teyla, the baby babbling and forgotten on the table. "I wouldn't call it a meeting. We literally ran into each other on the street once, but all I said was thanks and I went on my way."

"He pulled her out of traffic," Ronon contributed.

Teyla gave Ronon a look out of the corner of her eye. "You and he did not speak?"

"No, I didn't even know he was in the Air Force until I came through the wormhole." Ronon could see that the girl was beginning to see the interrogation for what it was, when Torren saved the day once again by reaching both arms out to Rory. Automatically, the girl settled him on her arm and bounced him about expertly for a few moments.

While the girl's attention was elsewhere, Teyla and Ronon exchanged glances. Rory Gilmore might think she hadn't met John Sheppard before, chance meeting on the street aside, but the man had certainly known a lot about her before she arrived. He'd known her age and her background before McKay mentioned it.

And then there was the mess of confusion with McKay. McKay was acting strange, Carter was acting strange, and this girl looked and acted way too much like McKay, even more than the man's own sister.

A faint suspicion tickled the back of Ronon's mind, something pushed along by more guess-work than he usually liked. An idea that he would keep to himself until he had more proof.

Zelenka appeared at the side of the table, chattering and so happy to see Rory as to be oblivious to anyone else, talking science at a rapid pace. Rory handed Torren back to Teyla and followed the man in the direction of the lab with the appropriate goodbyes.

Teyla twisted her chair to face Ronon. After a few minutes of silence, during which Torren burbled happily at the world, she said, "You have reached a conclusion."

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Which is?"

"It's just an idea," he hedged.

Her glare grew frosty. "Will you tell me?"

"In a bit." He stood quickly, giving Torren's head a pat. The boy grinned toothlessly up at him. "Gotta get the new marines set up for training."

It was an escape and they both knew it, but Teyla had seen the same signs as he had. She could pull it together on her own.

All the same, Ronon wanted to see Rory Gilmore and McKay in the same room at the same time.

This whole thing was going to be fascinating.

* * *

Reluctantly, John peeked around the corner of the level three presentation room. He hated being called on the mat by his superiors even when it wasn't related to work, and he'd be damned if he didn't know what this was about.

Sam Carter was already there, seated by the long windows watching the Atlantis sunset. Her feet rested on the window sill, her hair was down, and her whole attitude was one of relaxation.

John knew better. The day had been anything but _relaxing_.

"Come in, Colonel," Sam called. John cursed himself for being noticed, even though her back was to him and he had tried to be silent.

He plastered a smile on his face and said, "Colonel Carter," in return as he entered to room. "You wanted to see me?"

To his surprise, Sam let out a snort of laughter. "Not really. Come on, sit down." Warily, John obeyed. "It's been one hell of a day, hasn't it?"

"Ma'am," John replied ambiguously. He pulled over a chair and sat, not letting his spine slump into a greater level of familiarity.

She gave him a tired look. "Come on, we're off the clock." She reached into a bag at her side and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid.

John's mouth watered when he saw the label. It was something old and obscenely expensive and the last thing he thought he'd see in Atlantis. But then, he hadn't thought he'd ever see Rory Gilmore in Atlantis, so his track record was pretty much shot for the day.

"There's no ice," Sam warned as she poured a dollop into each glass.

"That's not a problem," John said, reverently accepting the glass. "How did this get here?"

"General O'Neill sent it with Miss Gilmore, probably to help soften what was going to happen today." Sam raised her drink in a toast. "To McKays."

John hesitated, but there was nothing of a trap on her face. "To McKays," he said quietly. That at least he could drink to.

The expensive whiskey tasted better than his memory had credited. His rich father had been into all things twenty-five years old, whiskeys and music and women, and John had snuck a shot of the good stuff one week before he'd run off to join the Air Force.

It tasted better on this side of adolescence.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asked when John had been quiet for too long.

John smiled and lied, "That the person carrying this from Earth isn't much older than the bottle."

Sam set down her glass on the window sill. "About that... Jack also sent along a note about Miss Gilmore's background."

"Yes?" John sat back and breathed in whiskey fumes and wondered how he could get out of this.

"There's a little thing about how you were researching her background a couple of years ago."

Ah, so there was to be an ambush after all. John stared into his glass and spoke in the general direction of his knees. "It was just a thing."

"This isn't an interrogation, John," Sam said when it became clear he didn't plan on continuing. "I've had enough today trying to pry Rodney out of the bowels of the city to bother."

"Fine." John sank deeper into his uncomfortable chair. "We were in New York and I'd been around Rodney for approximately twenty months straight and I guess I had Rodney on the brain because when I saw her," John gestured in the direction of the east tower, "I just saw Rodney."

"You saw Rodney," Sam repeated.

John cringed at how stupid it sounded coming out of her mouth. "It made sense at the time," he protested. "Her luggage tag sort of came off her bag as I was yanking her out of traffic and since I was still on leave from the SGC, I did a bit of research. When I found out that McKay had been in Hartford nine months before Ror-- Miss Gilmore, was born, I figured it might have been a coincidence."

Sam stared at him for a minute, then went for her glass. "You saw a stranger on a New York street and went so far as to steal information as to her identity and investigate using U.S. Military computers, and when you finally found your answer you chalked it up to coincidence?"

When she put it that way, it didn't make much sense to John either. He shrugged defensively. "Yeah, I did."

Sam shook her head, blonde hair flying everywhere. "The sad thing is, I believe you."

"You do?" John sat up. "Why wouldn't you?"

Sam pushed her hair back from her face with an abrupt gesture. "Because it's a crap story. But the other option, if you _knew_ McKay had a daughter and didn't tell him, that would be a really shitty thing to do to a friend."

Sam's little pep talk didn't do much to lift John's spirits. As Rodney had made quite clear earlier in the day, not explaining about those suspicions was still poor way to treat a buddy. Because the conversation was making John rather uncomfortable, he turned the tables by asking, "How did you know about Miss Gilmore?"

"I went back to the SGC after they had her blood test results."

"Oh."

"She's Vala's new best friend."

"Oh?"

Sam finally broke into a smile. "They sent General O'Neill to check up on her after she started triggering warning systems with her Rodney McKay research. She almost broke his brain with mathematics before she knew anything about the Stargate program."

"So she's smart?" John asked before he thought. Of course she was smart, they'd sent her to Atlantis. How could she not be brilliant?

"She's here to do research on ZPM technology."

And John supposed that was answer enough.

Sam lifted her glass to her lips and drained the rest of the amber liquid. When it was done, she looked forlornly at the empty container.

"It's a good tipple," John said, then cringed because honestly, what reasonably straight man in his early forties said _'tipple'_?

"Yeah," Sam said. Her smile had taken on a forlorn look. "My dad used to drink this with his military buddies. It took him a few years, but he finally talked Selmak into liking it."

John shifted in his chair. He knew that Sam's father, now deceased, had been host to a Tok'ra symbiot for several years, and the rumors around the SGC had been that the blending had brought father and daughter back together after years of conflict.

All this talk of fathers was starting to make John twitchy. He stood, slouching over his glass in an echo of a bow. "Thanks for the drink, Colonel."

"You're welcome. Good luck with McKay over the next few days."

He managed to keep most of the sarcasm out of his voice when he said, "Thanks," then went out of the room, leaving Sam staring at the thick golden glow on the ocean.

John trailed his hand along Atlantis' wall as he made his way through the city, his stomach tingling with warmth from the whiskey. The city hummed pleasantly, the sunset light oozing its way through the stained-glass of the windows like honey.

Running his tongue over his lip, John caught the last hint of twenty-five-year-old whiskey and wondered what the hell he was going to do.

* * *

_Dear Mom._

Rory stared at the words, which twisted slightly in the sunlit glow of the city shining through her window. Her head was finally starting to adjust to the light, pushing her headache back into a faint ache in her brain. She wondered if this was what Alice felt like after falling down the rabbit hole into Wonderland.

Only for her, here it would be Rodney McKay screaming _"Off with her head"_.

She realized that she had been caught up in staring at the sun-lit city again, marveling at the golden-bronze glow illuminating the spires of the piers, at the silver sheen along the edges of buildings. She had seen photographs of Atlantis, but she'd never imagined the beauty of this million-year-old city.

The sheer majesty of Atlantis made Rory feel very insignificant indeed.

She rubbed at the needle mark on her left arm, where Dr. Keller had given her the ATA gene therapy injection that morning. The doctor had been totally floored when she read about Rory's paternity, but she'd held herself together through the examination. Rory hadn't been paying attention; her migraine had made it hard to breathe, but whatever was in that injection must have helped, for the headache had started to recede ten minutes after she left the infirmary.

Hopefully, the spell of pain-free living lasted through her meeting with Colonel Carter the next day.

Determinedly, Rory turned back to her letter. She'd promised herself that she would email Lorelai as soon as she landed in Atlantis. She'd tried at lunch, to no avail, and then having spent the afternoon buried in the ZPM files in the Ancient database meant she hadn't had a chance to write Mom.

And now it was late and she was out of excuses.

_I'm settling into my new posting. I've got all the necessary things - a laptop and a place to sleep. I've got my own room, too._

Rory stopped typing. Could she mention that she had her own bathroom? Would that be breaking the rules? Not that it mattered, all letters went through the censors anyway, but it was an intense enough question that Rory tossed her computer on the bed and went out onto her balcony to stare once again at the city.

The soft summer wind whipped Rory's hair around her face, the air salty and warm and so completely different from any place Rory had ever been. Stars Hollow was in the middle of the state, miles and miles from the coast. Even Colorado Springs was completely land-locked. But even the time spent at Logan's seaside house in Martha's Vineyard was as different from Atlantis as coffee from clay. There, the ocean was an afterthought, a distant sound in the night.

Here... the ocean was everything. Even Atlantis, glorious in her splendor, was dwarfed by the waters that stretched to the horizon in every direction. In what Rory had decided was east, the moons were rising above the liquid horizon.

Rory breathed the sea air deep into her lungs, the breeze catching at her hair, and realization hit her. She was in another galaxy. This wasn't anything like the day-trips she took through the Stargate on Earth, where even if the Gate stopped working, a ship could reach them in a few days to take them home. No, she was so far away from home that if something happened, she might never get home.

And in that moment, staring out at an alien sea, with a father who couldn't stand her somewhere in the city, Rory couldn't bring herself to care. There was a hum in the air, beneath her feet, under her hands, and that hum felt impossibly familiar.

It felt a little like home.

She stared out at the city until the sun had slipped below the waters and the moons gleamed overhead. Only then did she go back inside to her computer. Rory deleted the entire file and started again.

_Dear Mom,_

_I'm here, I'm in one piece. I survived my first day. I missed a meeting with the CO and spooked the doctors, but I haven't walked out any door into the ocean and I haven't got seasickness yet. I met a nice Marine and lots of nice scientists. I start work tomorrow, bright and early. It's too bad the coffee in the commissary sucks._

_I met my real father today. He doesn't like me._

Rory stared at the line for long minutes, then carefully deleted the characters one by one. Lorelai still didn't know about Rory's real parentage, and there was no way Rory was going to explain about that in an intergalactic email.

_It's too bad the coffee in the commissary sucks._

_Tell everyone I say hi and I miss them. I'll see if I can send pictures. I'm good, and I love you. Give Grandpa a hug for me, and don't irritate Grandma too much. Tell Luke I'm already dreaming of diner coffee._

_Love you always,_

_Rory._

And then, because she needed to talk to _someone_ about Rodney McKay, Rory opened up an email to Vala at the SGC.

_Vala,_

_So I met Rodney McKay today. You know how you told me all those stories about how he has no social skills and I didn't believe you?_

_I believe you now._

_And you will never believe it, but it turns out that John Sheppard saved my life three years ago. What a coincidence! If you believe in those sorts of things. I thought Sam Carter was going to blow a gasket when she was trying to figure that one out._

_This has been a very strange day. I miss you guys._

_PS: Tell Daniel that Atlantis is even more amazing than anyone could explain, will you? He'd love it here._

That, Rory decided as she hit send on Vala's letter, would give Vala just enough to pester Daniel for at least three days. Or maybe it might finally get Daniel to Atlantis, and that was just as well. It would be nice to have a familiar face in Atlantis.

At least a familiar face who didn't detest the very sight of her.

But there was more to it than just her father. She didn't want anyone to think she was in Atlantis because of any favors from Rodney McKay... although, after that morning, she doubted anyone would buy that. The not-so-subtle interrogation by Ronon and Teyla, along with Dr. Keller's boggled reaction to her parentage, had demonstrated to Rory that it would probably be best to keep family details to herself. If Rodney McKay wanted to tell anyone, that was his damned business.

Rory wondered precisely when it had become so easy to lie about who she was, and where she came from.

With a sigh, she went back to the orientation files on the ZPM projects. She might as well become as familiar with the source material as possible. She didn't want to give Rodney McKay any ammunition to use on her the next morning.

In any event, tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.


	15. Daughters, Drones and Other Disasters

Dr. Rodney McKay opened his eyes on the morning.

This was a fairly regular occurrence, unless he went to bed late (or not at all) and he opened his eyes on the afternoon or evening. After five years on Atlantis, it didn't bother him anymore, although he would let everyone around him know all about his sleep schedule at the drop of a hat so people would comprehend how much effort he put into keeping the city safe.

But today, Rodney opened his eyes on the morning sun shining around his curtains, and if he concentrated very hard on waking up, he would not have to think about Rory Gilmore.

Too late. There she was, all blue eyes and long dark hair, sitting in Sam's office saying _I'm your daughter_ like people ripped Rodney's life apart every day.

Annoyed at his inability to keep his mind under control, Rodney kicked the sheets to the floor and sat up on his prescription mattress, wondering if he might be able to call in sick. But no, if he did that so soon after the recent destruction, Zelenka and the minions might actually find a way to blow the city up for good in his absence.

So he showered, reciting the decimals of pi as loudly as he could under the pounding water. He finished the shower before he ran out of memorized digits, so he could stomp around getting ready for the day in a somewhat better mood.

He glanced in the mirror before he left his room, only to see a tired middle-aged man staring back at him. A man who might actually be old enough to have a daughter like Rory Gilmore.

All of his carefully arranged distraction fell away as he stared in the mirror. He'd never resembled his father; Jeannie had that dubious distinction. Rodney took after his mother, with the big blue eyes and the dark hair, and it finally dawned on Rodney why Rory Gilmore had seemed so familiar when she walked through that event horizon the previous day.

She looked almost exactly like his brilliant, beautiful, distant mother.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the mirror, and stayed like that until the sharp dig of the counter against his belly became too much to bear.

* * *

Rodney walked into his lab at a fast clip, ready and willing for battle. He didn't know what to expect, so he was prepared for anything: Rory organizing the science department in an insurrection; Zelenka and the others voting him off the island; a total revamp of the computers. Anything.

He didn't know what a daughter of his might do.

Everything appeared normal, however. A few of the underlings started back in surprised at his sudden entrance, even though they had been there for over eight months and should know better. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

Zelenka glanced up over his screen in that enigmatic Czech way of his. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "We were planning on reworking the data flow yesterday afternoon before you disappeared. You could not have forgotten, it was your idea."

Rodney attempted to appear casual and in-charge. "Something came up," he said. He was the head of the department, he didn't have to explain himself to Radek. And yet, as the glare in Radek's eyes sharpened, Rodney found himself saying, "I wanted to re-examine the isolation of the ZPM's power flow."

The redirection worked. Zelenka nodded approvingly, no doubt remembering the months of horror they had experienced until Rodney's brilliance had succeeded in ridding the city of the invading machine drones. "Is everything working?"

"There are a few places we might want to rewire to improve efficiency," Rodney said, making his way to his work station. Still no sign of Rory Gilmore in the lab. "We can start that tomorrow."

Zelenka's gaze followed Rodney across the room. "We?" he echoed. "I thought you would want to push that menial task onto Miss Gilmore."

Rodney's chin went up, and he answered a little too fast for his own comfort. "I don't want to overwhelm her on her first day here," and it was the completely wrong thing to say. Zelenka stared at Rodney as if he had grown another head. Belatedly, Rodney remembered that he had planned to completely overwhelm Rory Gilmore when she arrived on Atlantis. There was a stack of paper on his desk ready to do just that, of tasks and jobs that she would have no clue as to how to accomplish, proving to her and everyone else that she really wasn't that smart after all.

The sight of the papers on the desk now made Rodney feel ill.

Zelenka was still staring at him. "Where is she?" Rodney snapped, hoping the other man hadn't seen his momentary lapse. "Why isn't she here working?"

"Colonel Carter wanted to speak with her regarding her thesis work on the ZPM," Zelenka said, pushing back from his work station.

That whipped Rodney's attention around. "What?" he demanded. "Without me there?"

Zelenka shrugged. "The Colonel could not find you yesterday to discuss the matter. She seemed most irritated with you."

"With me?" Rodney could not believe his ears. "Sam's irritated with me? Of all the people to be irritated with other people, I should be irritated with her!"

The conversation was beginning to attract the attention of the flunkies. Rodney reflexively tuned them out. Zelenka, on the other hand, he could not as easily be rid of. "What is wrong with you?" Zelenka asked, confused by Rodney's behavior. "You could not wait until Miss Gilmore arrived, and then yesterday you vanished as soon as she stepped through the Stargate."

"It's nothing!" Rodney said, trying to draw himself back together. The room pressed in on him, with Zelenka staring and the stack of papers sitting on his desk with which he had planned to humiliate Rory Gilmore.

With a sickening lurch in his stomach, he realized he had been doing the same thing his father used to do with him, driving him to achievement through the potential humiliation of ignorance.

He walked out of the lab without another word.

* * *

For a city as vast as Atlantis, the place was too full of people. Rodney walked, trying to find a place to be alone. No one spoke to him; they'd learned their lesson early on about attempting to socialize with him. He was a busy man and didn't have time for meaningless chatter.

Finally, in desperation, he squeezed into a transport closet and punched at the wall randomly, to find himself deposited at the base of the tower. It was close enough to a yet-unrepaired section of the outside wall that he could justify his presence to anyone wandering past. Not that he ever justified his presence to anyone.

Running on automatic, he picked up an abandoned repair kit and started running a diagnostic on the power flow through the circuits. It was mindless, meaningless work, but no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't keep his mind on his task.

By his calculations, Rory Gilmore was twenty-five years old. That was a very long time to be alive, when one did the mathematics. Teyla's son Torren was only a few months old, and the boy already had a personality of his own. He liked bright colors such as red and yellow, he enjoyed being held up high by Ronon, and the lullabies Teyla sang, and would stare entranced at Rodney as the man explained in detail about the inner workings of a Puddlejumper.

And look at Jeannie's daughter Madison. Only five, and already a complete person, not the Jeannie clone he'd imagined for all those years. She'd been so scared when Jeannie was kidnapped, and so utterly convinced that Uncle Meredith and Uncle John would save her Mommy.

Rodney tried to imagine Rory at Madison's age, and all he could picture was Jeannie at five, rebellious and shadowing his every step, scraped knees and climbing trees and insisting her doll sit with them at the dinner table.

The tools were shaking in his hands. His blood sugar must be low because he hadn't had breakfast, he reasoned. He carefully laid the tools down and reached into his pocket for his secret power bar stash.

Rory was twenty-five years old and no one had told him that he had a daughter.

He stared blankly at the scarred metal as he chewed, not seeing the damage. He'd often given a thought to Lorelai Gilmore over the years, as anyone would do with their first lover. But he and she had only been together for a week, and then that long-haired ape jock boyfriend of hers had swept back into her life and Lorelai hadn't given Rodney another thought.

At least that's what it felt like at the time.

The power bar tasted like dirt in Rodney's mouth, but he kept chewing. He needed energy, because he was Rodney McKay and he was head of the science department in Atlantis, and he had work to do. He wasn't allowed to show weakness. The city needed him.

And maybe he hadn't been that great of a catch as a teenager, but he could not understand why Lorelai hadn't ever contacted him to tell him about Rory. There weren't that many McKays in Vancouver. His family wasn't rich but he could have paid child support. Then he would have known Rory when she was growing up, and then he wouldn't have been presented with a fully grown daughter on the floor of the Atlantis Gateroom.

He had a fully grown daughter, and he'd spent the last eight months cutting her down and trying to prove her wrong, and he didn't even know her.

Maybe she was allergic to citrus. Maybe she was musical. He didn't know. All he did know was that she was brilliant in physics.

But all the McKays were like that, so really, that told him nothing.

He sat the damaged wall thinking about the things he didn't know about Rory Gilmore as the sun rose high in the sky over Atlantis.

Under it all, there was a single, underlying fact that Rodney had been trying very hard to forget. He'd been thinking so hard about Rory that he'd managed to push away John Sheppard's betrayal.

The man had known about Rory. For _three years_ he had known about Rory, had known that she was born in Hartford nine months after Rodney left that city. He'd known the name and the age as soon as Rodney mentioned it the previous day and still he said nothing, only ran in the direction of the Gateroom, leaving Rodney behind.

What kind of a man would do that? What kind of a _friend_ was that?

If Rodney had even the remotest of suspicions that John had a kid somewhere, he'd have the common decency to mention it to the man. But then, that sort of thing could only be expected of John _"I'm here to charm your womenfolk with my hair and dashing smile"_ Sheppard. No one expected Rodney McKay to be fathering children all over the place.

But still. Three years. If Rory Gilmore hadn't walked through the Stargate, would John have ever told Rodney? Ever?

What sort of a best friend would hide something like that?

There was a sick churning in Rodney's stomach. It had to be the power bar, he told himself firmly as he picked up the tools again. He wasn't allowed to be ill, because he was Rodney McKay and he was head of the science department in Atlantis, and he had work to do. The city needed him.

* * *

Because he was Dr. Rodney McKay, genius, the repairs took less time than he'd anticipated. The clock just ticked over four o'clock in the afternoon when Rodney could not find anything else to keep him out the lab. His paranoia was growing that in his absence, Zelenka and the others might be up to something.

Maybe Rory would still be in talking to Sam.

That particular hope was dashed as soon as Rodney blew through the lab doors. The first thing he saw was Zelenka bent over a particularly trying piece of equipment, talking animatedly to the bane of Rodney's existence.

For her part, Rory seemed absorbed in whatever nonsense Zelenka was spouting off. Rodney almost opened his mouth to tell Zelenka to _go away, don't say another word that I'll have to spend a week undoing_ before he caught himself. This wasn't some particularly noisome grad student he could abuse through some university-sanctioned form of indentured servitude.

This was his _daughter_.

He stopped in his tracks for a moment to look at the girl-- no, woman. She was taller than Jeannie, with long straight dark hair and large blue eyes that came straight from Rodney's mother. The usual SGA science uniform hung loose around her shoulders, the same way it had on Elizabeth, and a sharp pain of grief stabbed through Rodney's head that had nothing at all do with Rory Gilmore and everything to do with missing Elizabeth Weir.

Then reason reasserted itself, leaving Rodney reinforcing his mental plan to kill John Sheppard for not telling him about Rory.

Zelenka's gaze finally lifted from the machine, sweeping over the room and pinning Rodney to the wall. "You're back," Zelenka said in his unerringly moronic way of stating the obvious.

"Brilliant deduction," Rodney snapped, but his heart wasn't in the retort. Ninety percent of his attention focused on Rory, with the remaining ten analyzing the room and making sure that nothing had exploded in his absence. "Hi."

Rory straightened up, her hands clutching her tablet to her chest. "Hello," she replied. With any other new person, Rodney would have launched immediately into her intellectual failings and explaining how on Atlantis, Rodney was god and knew everything so don't go messing things up, but all he could do was stare.

Looking at her straight on, with the dark circles under her eyes and the gauntness of her cheeks, Rodney was taken back to that day when he was fourteen and he'd held Jeannie's sticky hand as Mom and Dad explained that Mom had a job in another city and it would be best if the kids stayed with their father.

Rodney saw his mother only four times in the intervening years before the woman died of cancer without bothering to tell any of them she was sick.

But that was then and this was different. Rory Gilmore was someone that Rodney did not know, in any way. He knew she was smart, had read her papers, but the persona he'd constructed in his head to fit the girl's papers and background fell to the ground around him like a house of cards.

He didn't know where to begin.

Rory stepped around the desk. "I, um, met with Colonel Carter this morning," she said when Rodney didn't speak. "We talked about my thesis work and what I can do here."

"Right," Rodney said. He could do this. So no one had told him about his daughter. He could handle this. He was the smartest person in two galaxies. He'd figure out a reaction.

Any time now.

"I was explaining to Miss Gilmore about the Atlantis power systems," Zelenka chimed in, still looking at Rodney with a wary expression.

If Zelenka had done that with any other person, Rodney would have flown off on a rage. He had, in fact, done so on at least two occasions when Zelenka usurped the introduction to the lab from him.

Today, Rodney just lifted his chin and concentrated on breathing properly. "What's your background on the ZPM power systems?" he finally asked.

Rory hugged her tablet so tight her fingers turned white. "I worked on the SGC's ZPM back on Earth," she replied.

"With Bill Lee?" Rodney demanded. "That's utterly useless." He reached over to his desk and picked up the pile of papers he'd planned on using to put Rory in her place, and quickly pulled out the ones written by himself, along with the translated Ancient fix-it manual. These he shoved at Rory. "The SGC work is almost completely theoretical. You need to know this."

"It's not all theoretical--" Rory started, but Rodney brushed the interruption off.

"It's close enough to be useless here. Read these."

Rory stared at him with hurt on her face and Rodney couldn't take it anymore. He picked up the power systems repair kit from where it was supporting some random project. Without looking at Rory again, he made his escape.

"Colonel Carter needs to speak with you!" Zelenka called after Rodney.

"I have work to do!" Rodney yelled over his shoulder. He would not look back. "This city isn't going to repair itself!"

The door whooshed shut behind him, taking with it any chance that Rory might call after him. That was for the best. She had a lot of work to do to be useful on Atlantis. Her background was all theoretical and she'd only been working on the field for less than a year. She couldn't have any idea what she was doing.

Meanwhile, Rodney had work to do. It was plain that the repair crews were not bothering to do a proper job of fixing the power conduits. If any of the degraded components exploded, especially while connected to the ZPM, the whole city would blow up. If Rodney had to fix everything single-handed, fine. He'd save the city by himself. Again.

He didn't need anyone else.

* * *

Because the universe hated him, things got steadily worse.

For the next three days, Rodney couldn't escape Rory Gilmore. He'd go to the labs, she was there. He'd sneak into the cafeteria for a late-night cup of coffee, she was reading at the tables. Every time he checked his inbox, there were politely written emails asking about points of science, all of which he answered in a quick flurry of keys and sent off without even checking the spelling.

Other than that, he kept communication at a minimum. Teyla and Ronon popped up occasionally up to stare at Rodney, but he'd just go the other way and after the first few times, Teyla didn't follow and Ronon grew bored of the exercise. Zelenka would come over the comm channel to demand his presence, but he just gave the man what he wanted and went back to work. He ignored the other emails in his inbox, especially anything from Sam Carter.

Most of all, he avoided John Sheppard like the plague. Or the Wraith. Or lemons. Or a Wraith holding a plague-ridden lemon.

He worked twenty-two-hour days, sleeping only four hours a night, eating on the run, anything to avoid any spare time to think about the daughter that no one told him about. She didn't seem to want to have much to do with him, either. Although that may have had more to do with Rodney's intense campaign to avoid her than anything else.

She obviously didn't want him as a father. If she had, wouldn't she have at least tried to contact him at some point in the last twenty-five years?

Rodney's cunning plan to avoid all human contact lasted until one overcast afternoon. The lab was packed to the brim with peons he could ignore, because Rory Gilmore was _somewhere else_ and he was taking the opportunity to catch up on the work piling up in his absence, when Sam Carter walked in and said in a clear voice, "Everybody, out."

Rodney could only look up and blink at the alacrity with which people cleared the room. Scientists usually didn't move so fast unless there was free food involved.

When the room was down to Sam and Rodney, the woman went back to the door, closed it, sealed it, then took a knife from her pocket and pried loose the casing to remove the control crystal. They were sealed in.

Rodney'd had fantasies along a similar vein, true, when Sam had flung herself at him in the lab to proclaim her undying lust for him. Of course, in those fantasies, she usually didn't look so armed and dangerous.

The first words out of her mouth cinched it. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Uh," Rodney replied.

"That is a serious question, McKay." Sam crossed her arms under her breasts, something that would normally distract Rodney for two seconds, but now it only seemed ominous. "Have you had a nervous breakdown? Are you possessed? Brain damage? What?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rodney said, pushing away from his work station.

Sam fixed him with a steely glare. "I'm talking about Rory Gilmore."

Of course she was. Everyone was talking about Rory Gilmore. Zelenka wouldn't shut up about the girl, his inbox was full of email from her, even the other scientists could talk about nothing else. "I'm letting her work," he said, which was as much of a concession as Rodney wanted to allow.

Sam stared at him for a long minute before she straightened up, placing her hands on the table in front of her. Rodney wasn't sure he liked having her hands within striking distance of his head when she was so annoyed. "You are shirking your responsibilities as head of science," she said in slow, measured tones.

"I am not--" Rodney tried to say, but Sam put her hand up and for some reason, the words dried up in his throat.

"You are not answering your emails. You are refusing to sign off on urgent projects. No one can find you and with the city in this state of disarray, it is completely unacceptable that you're throwing a week-long temper tantrum!"

Rodney stood up too fast "I am not throwing a temper tantrum!" he exclaimed loudly. "I'm conducting repairs--"

"We have a repair team to do those!" Sam spoke over him. Her trigger finger twitched on the table top. "This may sound harsh, McKay, but you need to get over finding out about your daughter and act like a grown up!"

Her words found their target. Stung, Rodney said the only thing he could think of to re-direct Sam's anger. "Like you're at all happy she's here, someone who's decades younger and twice as smart as you are!"

Belatedly, watching the colour drain from Sam's face, Rodney wondered if he might have stepped over the line on that one.

Silence fell in the room, letting Rodney wonder if he might use this opportunity to leave. Then Sam spoke through gritted teeth. "Either you stop acting like a child and do your job, or I'm replacing you as head of the science department. Am I clear?"

Rodney couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You can't replace me!" he exclaimed. "I'm the smartest person on Atlantis, I've forgotten more about the city's systems than someone like Zelenka ever knew in the first place!"

"McKay," Sam said. He shut up, mostly because the words all crowded together in his throat and choked him. First of all, he'd learned he had a daughter who didn't have any use for him and a best friend who had been keeping things from him all these years, and now Sam was taking about taking Atlantis away from him? "You can't keep doing this. With the recent damage to the city, I need you on point at all times. You can't let Rory distract you--"

The words finally came back. "Distract me?" he exclaimed. His hands found the table for support. He couldn't lose Atlantis, Sam couldn't do this to him! "How could someone who doesn't want anything to do with me distract me?"

Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Rodney threw his hands up in the air. He hadn't wanted to talk to Sam about this, not after she withheld information about Rory for a month, but she was the only one there and he found the words tumbling out of his mouth. "She's what, twenty-five? And she never contacted me to tell me? And she just shows up here and all she does is listen to Zelenka blather on and she doesn't want to talk to me--" He stopped and took a breath, then another, concentrating on staying upright.

Throughout his tirade, Sam's eyebrows had been going up and up. "Have you talked to her at all?" Sam asked. "Since she came to Atlantis?"

"I gave her some papers," Rodney recalled.

"I mean about _her_ , her life. Any of it?"

Reluctantly, Rodney had to admit, "I've, um, I've been busy."

Sam passed a hand over her face. "For crying out loud. You need to talk to her. Now."

"But--"

"She found out about you less than a year ago," Sam interrupted flatly. "Last January. The man she thought was her father developed leukemia and she went to be tested for a transplant, and she found out that he wasn't her real father. That's how it happened."

Rodney sat down. Hard.

"She looked you up and started doing so much research onto your past papers that the SGC twigged and sent General O'Neill to find her. That was in early March of this year. McKay, she hasn't known about you for twenty-five years. It's been less than ten months. She wanted to come to Atlantis because of you."

Sam had to be mistaken. Or lying. Or mistakenly lying. "Then how did John know?" he asked, unable to wrap his head around what Sam was saying. "Three years ago, how did he know about Rory?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "You'll have to ask him. But you need to talk to Rory, now. Don't screw this up, or you'll regret it forever."

Rodney stared at Sam, unable to process all the new things he'd learned.

"So go find her," Sam prodded after a minute.

"Oh. Right." Rodney managed to stand. His mind spun in circles. His daughter hadn't spent her life avoiding him. She'd only just learned about him. And come all the way to Atlantis because of him. He would find her, and talk to her, like Sam suggested. He tugged on his jacket. "How do I look?"

Sam rolled her eyes as she went over to the wall console to put the crystal back into the control panel. "Like you always do, McKay."

Right. Rodney walked across the room to the lab door as it opened, to reveal a handful of bored-looking academics waiting to be allowed back into class after recess. He stood still against the resulting tidal wave, Sam's presence behind him the only thing preventing him from going with the flow back into the room.

When the path cleared and Rodney still hesitated, Sam took his shoulder and hauled him along to the nearest transport closet. "Cafeteria. Go," she ordered.

"Okay. Oh, Sam... about that thing I said." Rodney rubbed his hands together, not really wanting to apologize, but figuring it was probably for the best.

"Yes?"

"I probably could have phrased it better--"

The door closed on Sam's murderous glare, and seconds later Rodney walked out onto the cafeteria floor, Sam Carter already forgotten.

The cafeteria was nearly empty. It was too early for the scientists to be eating dinner and too late for the Marines, who were probably out blowing things up on the east pier. A few people peppered the tables, working on something or other. The loudest sounds were the clang of pots coming from the kitchen.

Rory sat at the far end of the room, at one of the tables overlooking the ocean. Papers lay spread out before her on the table, which she referred to constantly as she typed on her tablet.

Rodney almost turned and left her to her work, but remembering the absolute certainty with which Sam threatened to take his science department away from him, he made himself put one foot in front of the other until he was at Rory's table. Since he was going to have to talk to her, he sat in the chair opposite her, making Rory almost jump out of her skin.

"Sorry. Hi," Rodney said.

Rory grabbed at the pen before it rolled off the edge of the table. "Is there something you wanted?" she asked warily.

"Yes," Rodney said, chin going up defensively. He was the smartest person in two galaxies, he could manage to have one conversation with this girl. "I wanted to know how you're settling in."

"Settling in," Rory repeated. "You've said about twenty words to me since I arrived and now you want to know how I'm settling in?"

"Well, yes," Rodney hedged. "I thought that maybe we should..." He made a vague wave between the two of them. "Talk about it."

Rory glanced out over the horizon, bitting her lip. When she finally looked back at Rodney, her eyes were glassy.

Rodney stared. Was she _crying_?

Her voice was solid when she said, "You haven't wanted to talk to me since I got here."

"That's-- well, yes." Rodney wished the girl would just forget that part, but that intent glare was all McKay. He'd always caved when Jeannie gave him that stare over the years, and this time was no exception. "I thought..."

"Yes?" she prompted when his voice faded away.

It was Rodney's turn to look out over the sea. Atlantis was putting on quite a show today, with the winds whipping the ocean up into whitecaps in the grey afternoon. "I may have thought that you didn't want anything to do with me," he said in a rush. He couldn't bear to look at her. At his daughter. "Because you never contacted me in twenty-five years. But then Sam told me you only found out about me in January and it wasn't really twenty-five years."

He heard a scraping noise, and Rory got up from the table and walked away. His head swimming, he wondered how he'd thought it was impossible to feel any worse. He was _trying_ and she just walked away from him. Sam had been totally wrong, he should have know that--

Two large cups thumped onto the table as Rory reseated herself. "I haven't had nearly enough coffee for this conversation," she said. "You want to talk about this?" Rodney didn't even have time to nod before she went on, her words gathering momentum as she spoke. "I spent twenty-three years of my life thinking I was Chris Hayden's daughter, and I found out about you from the Hartford newspaper archives and whatever scientific papers you had written before you started working for the military and went underground. That's all."

"What about your mother?" Rodney asked, confused.

"What about her?"

"Why didn't you ask her about me?" His ears burned as he thought of Lorelai, who would forever be sixteen in his memory.

Rory took a fortifying swallow of coffee. "She doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That you're my father."

For the second time in this very strange week, Rodney was struck absolutely speechless. "How could she not know?" he demanded when his voice came back.

"She thinks I'm Chris's daughter."

"And you didn't think it might be a good idea to tell her?"

"You may not have noticed, but I have some trouble dealing with this!"

"That did occur to me!"

Their rising voices were beginning to attract attention from across the cafeteria. Rodney grabbed his coffee cup and took a deep drink, feeling the caffeine going straight into his bloodstream. Rory glanced around the room, at the computer on the table, and then finally back at him. "I'm sorry." she said in a much subdued voice.

"About what?" Rodney asked when he emerged from the cup.

"About just springing this on you."

Every witty retort Rodney had been preparing on the subject wilted and died on his tongue as he took in Rory's expression, her posture, the guilt written all over her.

He didn't want her to feel bad. He felt... was it protective?

"It's all right," he heard himself saying. To his greater surprise, he found he actually meant it.

Her brilliant smile changed everything about her, wiping away all similarities to his mother or Jeannie or anyone McKay. It was a smile all her own.

 _His daughter_.

Buoyed by the sudden camaraderie, Rodney gestured at the computer. "What are you working on?" he asked. He now recognized the papers as those he'd handed her to read. It must be research.

Her hands fluttered down to the tablet. "I'm putting together something that occurred to me as I was going through the Ancient database yesterday, on the ability of the city adapt to power fluctuations," she said hesitatingly.

Rodney perked right up. He had lived and breathed Atlantis's power systems for years. No doubt Rory had some naive ideas about the power systems, but it showed initiative. In light of Rodney's decisions to be an adult about the situation and interact with the girl, he would be supportive. Somehow.

He grabbed the tablet before Rory could protest and started reading the document. And he read. And he read some more.

His careful control of his mouth slipped away at the bottom of the second page. Slapping the tablet down, he exclaimed, "Footnotes?" He wondered if his rising blood pressure might cause a stroke and how fast he could summon Jennifer. "You're claiming you can effectively recharge a ZPM, and you put the proof in the _footnotes_?"

"What did footnotes ever do to you?" Rory shot back. "Did they kick your puppy? Dump you at the prom?" She leaned over the table. "Did a footnote touch you as a child?"

He ignored her. "You can't just go turning science as we know it on its head and put the proof in the footnotes!"

"It's in the footnotes because it's not the point of the paper!"

"There's more?" he demanded.

Rory reached for the tablet, but he pulled it out of her reach. There was no way he was letting this piece of science go until he could work through the proof. "Page six."

"What's on page six?"

Rory smiled grimly. "Read."

Rodney huffed and muttered, but he went back to reading the paper. The cafeteria emptied around them as he went through the paper two times, then reached for Rory's pen and did some calculations of his own on the now-useless printed introduction to the ZPM system.

Finally, he sat back, feeling tired and excited at the same time. Her reasoning was sloppy, of course, and her mathematics could use some polish, but the idea was _there_.

"So?" Rory asked, watching his every move.

He tried to appear nonchalant as he handed the tablet back to her. "It's possible your ideas may have some merit," he said dismissively. It was either that, or jump up and down like a little girl in glee at the possibilities. Being aloof was more dignified, especially when around one's new daughter.

Rory, far from being put out, beamed at the praise.

Just then, something snapped deep in the city. Atlantis's melodic hum went dead two seconds before the lights flickered out.

"No, no, no!" Rodney shouted to the city, already on his feet and pulling on his jacket. He batted at his earpiece, connecting to the control room as the lights came back up at half power. "Command, what happened?"

Static coated Sam's voice in his ear. "Sudden power loss in the --- east wing of --- south --- copy?"

Rodney shook his head in disgust. Hadn't he warned everyone that something like this might happen? That the city's circuits remained in danger of overload after the last battle? But that thought was much preferable to the idea, hammering in the back of his brain, that _it's happening all over again_.

"I'm going down there, Sam," he said, leaving the channel open just in case communications improved. Looking quickly around the cafeteria, he couldn't see a single person who might be able to help. The room was completely devoid of any military life, and the few scientists were from botany and medicine. Unless witchcraft would be able to help him solve this, that left...

"Come on," Rodney snapped his fingers at Rory. "I don't want the city tipping over in the winds."

"Me?" Rory squeaked. "But I've never worked with the Atlantis power systems--"

"And you're never going to learn just sitting behind a computer! You at least might have a clue as to which end of the power cables are up!"

"But--"

"I need an extra set of hands! Did you come to Atlantis to just watch other people do all the hard work?" The acerbic words were out of his mouth before he thought about it, but the power was failing in his city and he didn't have time to hold anyone's hand.

Whatever Rory took from his words got her to her feet and moving after Rodney. As they spun through the halls, Rodney went back to trying to contact the tower.

In spite of the cheerful words he'd used in the cafeteria, Rodney was deeply worried. They may have cleared the city of enemy machines, but maybe, just maybe...

They rounded a corner and almost fell over Major Lorne and Staff Sergeant Herrera. The latter quickly lowered his P90. "Doc, what--"

"There's no time to explain!" Rodney shouted, barreling along. As he expected, the military men followed him. Lorne looked worried, while the staff sergeant was chaffing for excitement. _Americans,_ Rodney thought in disgust. "There's an unknown power loss in the south pier and communications are out," he said. "I can fix it, of course, but in light of the last seven months--"

"We'd love to help out," Lorne interrupted. "Wouldn't we, Staff Sergeant?"

"A long jog to the pier before dinner, sir?" The younger man grinned at Rodney with overly white teeth. "Just the thing to work up an appetite."

"Very funny," Rodney grumbled. He glanced at Rory over his shoulder. "Do you have anything witty to add?"

Rory shook her head, almost barreling into Lorne when the man halted suddenly to peer cautiously around a corner, gun ready. "I don't even know why I'm here," she confessed quietly.

Rodney wasn't either. As they descended towards the dangerous most dangerous spot in the city, he couldn't exactly recall what made him invite Rory along on the mission. _So he wouldn't have to do it alone_ seemed very useless, now. "You can carry things," he said after a minute. "Or lift heavy objects."

"Speaking of lifting," Lorne interrupted, "Where's your team?"

"How should I know?"

"Ronon's beating up the new officers," Herrera contributed "When I passed the infirmary, Teyla was distracting the medical staff with the baby."

"Is there anything you don't know, Staff Sergeant?" Lorne asked, grinning.

Herrera didn't even think before replying, "Nothing worth knowing, sir."

They had reached the stairs. If they went down eighteen flights and then hopped across one of the sky bridges, they'd be right on top of the problem. At least that's what Rodney's modified life-signs detector told him. He halted and turned to face his rag-tag team. A fly-boy Major with the ATA gene, a scruffy marine with a propensity for violence and black-market chocolate, and a young woman who was a complete enigma to Rodney.

Hadn't he been here before?

"If you two can stop flirting for five seconds," he snapped at other men, not even eliciting so much as a ruffled feather in response, "This might, and I stress might, be a simple power outage. If that's the case, we're screwed because the city's stabilizers run through the south pier junction and in these winds the city might start swaying."

"What's the best case scenario?" Lorne asked, taking a moment to readjust his P90.

"That was the best case. Worse case, we might not have found all the Trojan drones and we're looking at the impending destruction of the city."

Lorne took this in stride; after all, he'd been in the city for years. Herrera and Rory exchanged a glance, then Rory raised her hand.

"The bathroom's two flights down," Rodney said.

Rory jerked her hand down and glared at him. "I was going to say, I'd prefer it to be the first case."

"Me too," Herrera said, in the process of unbuckling his sidearm holster. He handed it to Rory. "Have you ever used one of these before?"

"I went off-world at the SGC over a dozen times," Rory said, trying to sound nonchalant. Or maybe she did sound nonchalant and Rodney was just projecting his own insecurity and quaking innards onto the others. She buckled the holster on, having to cinch the clips tight to fit around her waist.

Lorne cleared his throat. "We're going in. Staff Sergeant, you take our six and continue to try to make contact with anyone. Gilmore, let us know if you're having trouble keeping up. McKay..." Lorne met Rodney's eyes. They both knew how badly this could end. "Don't fall over."

And down they went.

* * *

Things went well for the first eight flights, then Rodney's left knee started to twinge on every fourth step and Herrera's muttering became more intermittent.

"Major," Rory said over the sound of their footsteps on the metal stairs, "What might this thing be?"

"You mean the infiltration of the city?" Lorne replied. "Didn't you hear about that before you came?"

"Not much of it," Rory admitted. "Colonel Carter's story wasn't released from the Pentagon until a week before I left, and I was trying to wrap up all my work for my PhD thesis at the time."

"Ah. Well, it's simple," Lorne said, clattering down the stairs like he did this every day. Which he might have, insane Air Force personnel. "After the Wraith-Replicator war--"

"You're starting the story there?" McKay huffed, taking his attention off the life-signs detector long enough to glare at Lorne's back.

"I'm starting at the beginning," Lorne shot back.

"A very good place to start," Herrera murmured behind Rodney, and if this descended into showtunes, Rodney would not be held responsible for his actions.

"So," Lorne said, going back to his story. "As far as we can tell, during the Replicator war, the Replicators built some low-level drones that took very basic instruction and were not capable of replicating or even independent thought."

"They were very good at exploding, though," Herrera contributed.

"Unfortunately for us, the Durrae, a race of traders from one of the further reaches of the galaxy, found a stash of these drones and decided it would be a great time to attempt to take Atlantis by force, to sell it off to the highest bidder."

"Didn't the Genii try that in the expedition's first year?" Rory asked. She was beginning to sound exhausted, which Rodney in no way found to be gratifying, that he was in better shape than the twenty-five year old girl. Then his other knee twinged, and he quickly shut those thoughts down.

"The Durrae were like second-rate Genii. They tried to take the city and released the drones, but their initial assault ended badly. For them."

"But they left the drones behind, and those got into the ducts of the city like nobody's business," Herrera jumped in. "Like some motherfucking computer virus from hell. Um, ma'am."

"Took us six months to flush those buggers from the system, and they took some of the city with them," Lorne finished. "We scanned every inch of the city and thought we'd found the last of them."

"Maybe you did," Rory suggested.

"Yeah, perhaps."

They cleared the last flight of stairs and landed back on solid ground. Rodney's knees almost buckled under him, but Herrera was at his side to jerk him upright before he collapsed.

"Thanks," Rodney gasped. "I just need a minute to..." He waved his hand in what he hoped meant _leave me alone, I can't breathe._

Lorne doubled back. "Come on, McKay, no time for recovery."

"Why not?" Rodney demanded, but Lorne's hand was under his arm and dragging him along.

Lorne waited until they were a few paces in front of Rory to mutter in Rodney's ear, "The city's starting to rock."

* * *

Rodney's life-signs detector pointed them in the correct direction. Power was flowing from the ZPM through the walls, but it bottlenecked in the junction. On the face of it, the whole matter was a simple problem that Rodney could fix in his sleep. But under their feet, the city's sway was beginning to be noticeable even to Rodney.

It felt exactly like being on one of the ferries to the island in a storm when Rodney was a teenager, with his parents fighting in the stairway, and little Jeannie, already nauseous from her new epilepsy meds, puking into a garbage bin and Rodney wondering the boat would even be able to dock or if they'd all sink at sea in sight of the ferry terminal.

He was _not_ going to let Atlantis sink to the bottom of the sea during his daughter's first week in Pegasus. His ego would not be able to bear the failure.

So Rodney spent the walk examining the energy readings and reviewing the drone eradication procedures he had devised, while the city shifted under his feet and memory filled his head with the stench of vomit mixing with ferry fries and gravy, and the unforgettable helplessness he felt at holding four-year-old Jeannie's hair off her face while the purser tried in vain to find their parents.

It occurred to Rodney after a few turns in the corridor that the crushing pressure in his chest wasn't a heart attack brought on by exertion. It was panic. Panic, because he'd only just found out about his daughter, that she was _his_ and smart and she wanted to know him, and now they all might die because Rodney had been too distracted over the past week to bother following up on if the whole city had been swept for bugs.

Panic, because every time in the past five years when there had been a problem, Rodney had John Sheppard to help him fix it, but now John wasn't there. All Rodney had was Lorne and Herrera, both of whom were perfectly capable, but neither of them had the insane luck or the karmic get-out-of-jail-free card that John Sheppard had tattooed on his forehead.

They were all going to die.

"Way to keep positive, Doc," Lorne muttered, and Rodney realized belatedly that he must have said that last part out loud.

He drew breath to say something scathing to Lorne, to make up for his verbal gaffe, when Rory tilted her head and said wonderingly, "Is it supposed to sound like that?"

"Sound like what?" Rodney asked, but even as he spoke, he heard it, and the bottom of his stomach dropped out.

A faint, high-pitched whine, coming from the direction of the power junction.

_No._

"Drones," Lorne ground out, his P90 swinging up. "We need to move faster!"

From some deeply hidden part of his being, probably the _I don't want to die_ instinct he'd developed in Pegasus, Rodney found the energy to gallop along after Lorne. They didn't need the life-signs detector any longer; all they needed to do was head in the direction of the sound. When it was loud enough to rattle the teeth in his head, they were there.

Sure enough, it was worse than Rodney had feared.

The panels had already fallen off the walls, the power cables grotesquely swollen as tendrils of the drone wrapped themselves around the cables. As far as Rodney had ever been able to tell, the tendrils sucked the power of the surface of the cables until the drone had enough power stored up to detach itself and seek a new food source.

"This one can't have been here for more than an hour," Rodney shouted, skidding to a stop near the wall. He'd spent six months overcoming his revulsion to the sound, and still he wanted to throw up. "We still have a chance to get it out!"

"What do you need?" Lorne asked loudly, wincing as the whine pitched up another octave.

"We cut the power supply and starve it off!" Rodney swung around, following the cable schematic on his life-signs detector. "We have to hurry!"

On the other side of the corridor, Rory clenched her fists. "How can you stand that?" she asked Herrera, her voice loud.

Herrera muttered something, too soft for them to hear. "Speak up, Staff Sergeant!" Rodney shouted at the man. "You know anyone with the Ancient gene is deafened by the noise--" He looked up from his life-signs detector for a moment, something belatedly occurring to him. "You have the _Ancient gene_?" he asked Rory. It was totally unfair that his daughter was smart and had the Ancient gene!

"I had the gene therapy when I got here," Rory said. "Why aren't you going deaf, Carlos?"

"I don't have the Ancient gene," the Staff Sergeant said loudly. "Um, Doc? Exploding city?"

McKay spun back around, his mind a whirl of genius and possibilities. He was Rodney McKay, the smartest person in two galaxies, and if anyone could save the city to the accolades of all, it was him.

"We'll shunt the power in corridor alpha, subsection twenty-seven, into the ground breaker!" he decided. "The power bleeds into the sea and doesn't kill anyone, and the drone will detach before it's ready and you two can shoot it dead!"

"One problem, McKay!" Lorne countered. "If I remember from last time, subsection twenty-seven is only accessible from a tiny service duct!"

"So?"

"Last time I checked, there's a problem with one of us getting in there!"

Rodney reexamined his plan. Lorne was correct. The duct was two inches too small to fit Lorne's shoulders, and he was the narrowest of the men. Teyla might have been able to manage it, but she was far away.

But wait.

Rodney rounded on Rory, and whatever she saw in his eyes made her shrink back. "You're narrow!" Rodney exclaimed. "Come on!"

"McKay, she's been here three days!" Lorne protested, following Rodney and Rory down the corridor.

"And wouldn't it be nice for us all if we all survived into tomorrow?" Rodney shouted, more out of habit than actual need. "Any better ideas will be entertained!"

"What about waiting for extra help?"

"I said a _better_ idea!" Rodney stopped at the duct that led to the power cables in subsection twenty-seven. He turned to Rory. "It's easy. Go in and left to the point in the cables that have a marker like this." He pulled a sharpie from a pocket and, grabbing Rory's arm, wrote in Ancient on her sleeve. "Then clip the blue cable and attach it to the red output."

"What happens if I accidentally cut the cable?" Rory asked.

"It's attached to the ZPM. We'll all be electrocuted and die," Rodney said. "Don't cut the cable."

Rory took the clip he shoved at her, but she didn't move. When she looked up at Rodney again, she was deathly pale. "I don't know if I can do this," she said in a tiny voice.

"Don't be stupid! You have to do this, otherwise everyone dies. You can do this. I could do this." Rodney hesitated. " _Can_ you do this?"

Rory took a deep breath. "I can do this," she said, standing taller. For a moment, Rodney had a twinge in his stomach that might have been pride. Or terror. They felt rather like the same thing at this point.

Lorne busied himself with removing the panel from the wall. When it was down, he aimed his little P90 flashlight into the darkness. "All clear, the drone hasn't made it this far back," he said. "You have a go, Miss Gilmore."

Rory took another breath. "All right." Suddenly, she darted forward and gave Rodney a quick hug. Rodney wasn't sure who was more surprised, him or Major Lorne. "Be right back,” Rory promised.

Momentarily shell-shocked, Lorne removed the light from his weapon and handed it to Rory. Without another word, Rory stepped into the duct and vanished.

Rodney watched her progress on his life-signs detector. It took him a few minutes to realize that Lorne was staring at him. "What?"

"She hugged you."

Rodney's ears burned. "So?"

"She _hugged you_."

"Thank you, Major Obvious!" Rodney snapped. "Go stand with Herrera so you two can blast the drone, why don't you?"

Lorne stomped off down the corridor, leaving Rodney alone to watch the life sign of his only child inching down a duct to the power cables.

This was a bad idea. A spectacularly bad idea. So bad, in fact, that Rodney was this close to calling Rory back when he heard her voice calling, "Dr. McKay-- I mean, Rodney?"

"What's wrong?" Rodney responded immediately. Oh god, the drone had her, they were all doing to die and he'd sent his only child into death's grip--

"There's no red output."

"Then try to the green output!"

A hesitation, then, "There are four green outputs."

"Are you colour-blind?" Rodney demanded. "There can't be four green outputs--"

"There are four green and two yellow outputs!" Rory shouted back. "And if you're not colour-blind, I'm not colour-blind!"

"What?"

"Genetics 101, Dr. Mendel! Which output do I use?"

Rodney fought back panic. He should be the one in there, because obviously Rory had no idea what she was doing and he was supposed to save the city and what insane feat of Ancient engineering put four green outputs in one wall? He thought and he thought, and then he thought harder. "Can you see a black output about four inches down the wall?"

A pause, and then, "Yes!"

"Use that one!"

"Is this a good idea?"

Something on his life-signs detector twitched. Rodney's previous panic was nothing compared to the blinding terror he felt as the drone's tendrils started to stretch back along the conduit towards Rory. "Do it now!" he shouted. "It's growing!"

A moment, then the distant whine stuttered and died. On the life-signs detector, the tendrils began to contract away towards the drone's main body. A clattering in the duct sounded moments before Rory toppled out, colliding with Rodney. "Did it work?" Rory demanded.

The sound of P90 fire filled the air, which was answer enough. Rodney ran towards the sound, wondering distantly how insane his life was, when his default reaction was to run _towards_ the hail of bullets.

He checked on his life-signs detector before rounding the last corner, because friendly fire was the third last way he wanted to go. The scene he emerged on hellishly familiar; the drone flopping about under bullet fire, its long tendrils twitching on the cold floor as Lorne and Herrera emptied their clips into the thing.

Around them, the power came back up and the sounds of the city exploded over his earpiece. As the last bullet retort echoed in his ears, he heard his name being shouted.

"McKay? Dammit, what's happening?" It was Sam.

Rodney touched his comm to activate the mouthpiece, when he realized that it was still on. The tower must have heard the P90 fire. "We got it," Rodney said. The giddiness of not dying turned his limbs to rubber. "Another drone. It's dead now."

"Are you sure about that?" Sam demanded.

Rodney let his head rest against the wall. "Of course I'm sure," he said, not able to summon the energy for an acerbic comment. "Now can we please schedule that complete scan of the city I've been asking for?"

"McKay's right, ma'am," Lorne said. "The drone has been incapacitated."

Sam's sigh of relief was audible over the channel. "Good work, people. Good work."

Rodney opened his eyes to see Rory's delighted grin. He found himself smiling back at her.

Good work, indeed.

* * *

Four hours later, Sam dragged Rodney away from the Tower's scanning station and into the meeting room for a debrief. The room was overly full, with half the technicians _who were supposed to have fixed this problem in the first place_ , Zelenka, Sam, Lorne and Herrera, Rory, and the rest of Rodney's team, along with others who were probably only there for the sandwiches.

It was the first time in four days that Rodney had been in the same room as John Sheppard, and Rodney took particular care to avoid any interaction with the man as Lorne detailed the excursion onto the south pier. Rodney interrupted Lorne at every other sentence to correct or expand on a point. Lorne, used to this tactic by now, never offered to let Rodney tell the story in its entirety. Not that it mattered. Rodney would eventually re-write the man's report anyway.

When they got to the part about the power junctions and the duct and cables, Rodney took over, pulling up schematics and drawings and Ancient electrical plans. "The problem that Rory had in finding the grounding was that the wiring is _completely_ different in the south pier than in the others, and we've never run into this before because the only drone intrusions in that area were along the waste-water pipes into the sea--"

"Wait, you send Ror-- Miss Gilmore, in to rewire the circuit?" John interrupted, thereby proving that he could not follow a conversation when it wasn't about football or weapons.

"She was the only one who would fit in the duct," Rodney told him, thrown by the interruption. "So we need to re-examine all power schematics because if this happens again with any left-over drones--"

"You sent her into the wall?" John asked again.

"Did you hit your head or something?" Rodney demanded. "Of course I sent her into the wall! I wasn't exactly looking forward to dying horribly!"

"But..." John was staring at Rodney as if _Rodney_ had done something wrong.

It took Rodney a long moment to figure out what had John's boxers in a twist. When realization came to him, Rodney almost threw his coffee cup at John. "What else was I going to do? She was the only one of us who would fit! She's in Atlantis because she's smart enough to figure things out and I'm not going to show her any favoritism on the job just because she's my daughter!"

Utter silence.

The resulting stillness broke Rodney out of his rant, and he looked around. Sam buried her face in her hands. Both Lorne and Zelenka looked as if they had been hit over the head with a club. Ronon, smugness exuding from every pore, held out his hand for a befuddled Teyla to press something onto his palm.

And Rory had gone red.

Oh. Maybe Rory hadn't wanted him to tell anyone about him being her father.

It was too late now.

Rodney turned back to John. "Why are you interrupting me? Were you there? No! And I'm not even talking to you!" With that off his chest, Rodney went back to his diatribe about power circuits and outputs and the proper way to avoid blowing up the city.

When the meeting was over, most everyone in the room could not escape fast enough. John lingered until Rodney's stiff refusal to speak made it clear to the man that _he was not over this_ , and he finally slumped out of the room.

Sam folded her hands under her chin and looked at Rodney with a strange expression on her face. "What?" Rodney asked when he couldn't take it any more.

Sam smiled. "Nothing, McKay." She stood and headed for the exit. "Welcome to the team, Miss Gilmore," she called as she went out the doors.

That left Rodney alone with Rory. She rose and smiled tentatively at him, wringing her hands. That reminded Rodney about his idea. "If you didn't want me to tell anyone about the daughter thing, you should have told me," he blurted out.

"What?" Rory asked, startled. "No, it's not that. I didn't think you would have wanted people to know."

"Oh. I don't mind if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Good." He picked up his tablet. It was late and he was hungry and he had just saved the city, almost single-handed. Let the others monitor things for an hour. "I'm going for food."

"Oh, okay." Rory said, stepping back. She shoved her hands into her pockets, trying to appear casual.

"You could come with me," Rodney offered, and was surprised to see her eyes light up, just with that small offer.

"That sounds good, thanks," she said with quick acceptance. Rodney wasn't sure how to deal with this. People didn't often want to spend time with him, not even people who were related to him. Well, especially people who were related to him.

But he would take what he could get.

As they walked down the corridor, Rodney found that he could finally give voice to something that he had wanted to say for hours now. "I can't believe you put that point in the _footnotes_ \--"

"Oh my god!"


	16. Freud Would Have A Field Day

John Sheppard was not pouting.

Military commanders of secret alien bases in far-off galaxies did not pout and they did not sulk and they did not hide in Puddlejumpers to avoid the prying eyes of subordinates as they tried to figure out how to get the base's most annoying scientist to speak to them again.

And because John Sheppard was the military commander of Atlantis, he was obviously _not_ pouting as he sat in Jumper Five, mentally bemoaning the fact that Rodney McKay hadn't spoken to him in over a week. Because if he was, that would be embarrassing and pathetic.

 _And you'd know all about pathetic,_ John thought in disgust.

The Jumper's tiny proximity alarm went off, signaling the entrance of someone in the Jumper Bay. John mentally told the Jumper to pull up the flight log schematics, to give any potential interloper the impression that Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was engaged in serious military commander business.

After all, he was a busy man.

A hesitant tap sounded at the end of the Jumper ramp. Before John could wonder which of the city's residents would actually _knock_ on a Jumper, someone spoke. "Excuse me?"

John fought very hard to keep his shoulders straight. Of all the people he did not want to see, Rory Gilmore was high on the list. Near the top, even. Still, John had an image to maintain, especially in the face of sundry McKays. Plastering a smile onto his face, he swiveled the chair around. "Hey," he said. "Can I help you?"

Rory stood on the ramp, one hand clutching a tablet computer to her chest like a shield. "I'm supposed to find someone to show me a Puddlejumper, but there's no one else around," she said. Her obvious reluctance couldn't mask her curiosity as she looked around the inside of the Jumper. "You look busy. I'll come back later."

John should have let her go, but then he'd be forced to return to his sulk, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to deal with that level of self-pity. "Don't worry about it," he said. Rodney might be avoiding him, but that was no reason for John to take out his irritation on Rory.

"Thanks," she said. As she walked into the cabin, her fingers reached out to brush the delicate inscriptions on the wall. "Dr. McKay gave me a to-do list for today, and this is the last thing."

John settled back into the pilot's seat, trying to see something of McKay in his daughter. Rory had McKay's blue eyes and his chin, poor kid. The dark brown hair that hung down her back in a long braid might have come from McKay, or maybe the girl's mother, John wasn't sure.

But Rory was slender to the point of delicacy, while both McKay and Jeannie were more stocky without being large. Jeannie, anyway. Rodney had put on a few pounds since they'd arrived in Atlantis, John thought uncharitably.

Fully aware of how petty he was being, John focused on Rory's last words. "Is he actually making you call him Dr. McKay?"

Rory pulled her attention away from the side console. "Oh no, that's just habit. At the SGC, familiarity was not encouraged between the juniors and the scientists." She quirked her eyebrows and wrinkled her nose as if to show how much she cared for that rule. "After one lecture of 'addressing the esteemed scientists with the gravitas of their superior years and education'," she mimicked in a querulous voice, "It's just easier to call everyone by their title."

John smiled at her tone. How many times had he gotten that particular dressing-down from his superior officers over the years? "Who did you have to piss off to get that talk?" he asked, gesturing Rory to the co-pilot seat.

The girl sat obediently, placing her computer across her knees in a way that reminded John of the girls in high school holding their books over their uniform kilts, white knee-socks up high and knees pressed demurely together and Jesus Christ, he was not going to think like that about Rodney McKay's _daughter_.

"One of the older engineers," Rory was saying. "Daniel told me to ignore him." She smiled and ducked her eyes for a moment. "But Cam said that he was just saying that because if we called Daniel by all his titles, he'd be 'Dr. Dr. Jackson'."

 _And you call SG-1 by their first names with almost as much familiarity as Carter,_ John thought. "We're not really like that here," he said. "Besides, it's kind of weird to call your father by an honorific."

"I know, but it's strange to call him Rodney, and I can't really call him Dad yet," she confessed.

John shrugged. "You could always call him Meredith," he said without thinking. When his mind caught up with his mouth, he wanted to kick himself.

"Why would I call him Meredith?" she asked with a frown.

John wondered if Rory would do if he started banging his head against the console. Instead, he put on his most brilliant smile and tried to deflect. "Never mind. You said you needed to look around a Jumper?"

The hard look in her eye told John that she saw through his pathetic attempt to change the subject, but blessedly, she let it go. "I'm supposed to get an understanding of the power relays in the Jumper control circuits," she said, glancing down at her computer. "But I'm not supposed to touch anything."

"The ATA gene therapy worked on you, right?"

"Enough for me to be deafened by that power-sucking drone thing last week," Rory replied. "But I haven't had a chance to test it yet on anything else. Dr. Zelenka told me that none of the new people are allowed near Ancient technology for the first month, until Dr. McKay-- until Rodney can be sure that they won't accidentally blow up the city or something equally catastrophic."

 _Something like showing up Rodney McKay,_ John supplied internally. "There's no time like now."

"What do you mean?"

John stood and gestured at the pilot's chair. "You're supposed to learn about the Jumper. This is the best place to do it."

But aren't there missiles on the Jumper?" Rory asked. "Rodney was very specific about telling me how very dangerous the missiles are."

John rolled his eyes. "He should also have told you that the Jumpers are programmed to not arm missiles in the Jumper Bay unless you have the override codes. Come on. You'll never know unless you try."

Rory look at John for a long moment before slipping into the pilot's chair, looking surprised at her own daring.

John plunked himself down in the co-pilot's chair, mentally telling the Jumper to transfer control to the new arrival. The slight pressure in his mind eased, and Rory jumped as if stung. The controls lit up as screen after screen of diagnostics appeared on the monitor. John had only ever seen a Jumper react so extremely to Major Lorne, who had the ATA gene naturally. "Easy," John cautioned. "Don't let the Jumper overwhelm you. It's just trying to be helpful."

Rory took a shaky breath, hands gripping the armrests. One by one, the diagnostics closed down, until they were left with only the general overview on the monitor. John knew from personal experience that this screen was the loudest of the Jumper's programs. If Rory had been able to respond to that pull so soon, she had good control indeed.

"Well done," John said in praise. "That's the one you'll need the most at first. Have you ever flown before?"

"Flown?" Rory squeaked. Everything went dark. "You didn't say anything about flying!"

"We're not going anywhere now," John reassured her. Memories echoed in his head of teaching his brother Dave to drive the stable-master's old pickup, when Dave was ten and John was old enough to know better. "Before I let you up in any of my Jumpers, you need to know them inside out."

Rory slowly nodded. "I guess that's fair," she said. The cabin lights came back on, along with the overview screen. "What does this all mean?"

John had only meant to spend a few minutes with Rory, to show her a few things before he manufactured an escape from the Jumper Bay. After all, he was the military commander of Atlantis and he was supposed to be a busy man. So he wasn't really sure why, two hours later, he was sprawled on the Jumper floor with Rory, wall panels resting against the seats as they picked over the control crystals.

Rory's insatiable curiosity made John feel old and a little stupid. She wanted to know everything about the Jumper, and when John had to admit he didn't know something, she'd dive into the Atlantis database on her computer and make him wait until she figured it out.

"Would a power surge affect the life support systems?" Rory asked, never looking up from the glowing blue crystals, her knee bumping against John's boot as she shifted her position. He moved away after a minute when it occurred to him that it was the polite thing to do.

"It depends on the source of the surge," John said, pleased that he could answer this one. His correct-answer-ratio was sadly low at the moment. "If you're talking about outside weapons, then only if they get past the shield, but by then you're pretty much dead so it doesn't matter. Otherwise, life support is kept separate from navigation and shield for obvious reasons. It's the Jumper's primary system."

Rory frowned. "What if you need to re-route power from life support for emergency navigation?" she asked.

As she leaned forward, her braid slithered down over her shoulder. John absently moved the silky plait back over her shoulder, out of danger of being caught on the crystals. "If you're at the point where you only have life support and no navigation, you stay put and wait for another Jumper to come rescue you."

Rory looked at him, a smile ghosting over her lips. "I thought you of all people would advocate self-sufficiency in rescuing one's self in this galaxy."

"What are you talking about?" John asked, uncomfortable and not quite sure why.

"Everyone says you're the reason Atlantis is still standing."

John's jaw clenched. "That's bullshit," he muttered, shifting back to give himself enough space to pull his legs up to his chest, arms held loosely around his knees. "My team did a lot of that." He hesitated before he went on, mostly because he was still really irritated at Rodney, but that didn't make his next statement any less true. "McKay's the one who usually saves the city in the nick of time. You know. With science."

A brilliant smile spread across Rory's face, chasing away all of John's doubts about speaking. "He is?"

"Yeah, all the time," John said. Whatever was going on between Rodney and John, John wasn't enough of an asshole to denigrate the man's accomplishments to his new daughter. "We wouldn't have made it through the first few weeks in Pegasus without McKay."

Rory hugged her knees to her chest in excitement. "Most people don't like to talk about Rodney," she said.

John shrugged. "He doesn't exactly make a lot of friends."

"I see that. What about you?"

Too late, John realized he'd fallen into that inevitable trap of _talking about it_. And it was too late to manufacture an escape now. "McKay and I get along fine."

Rory looked at him with those brilliant McKay eyes and it was getting a little hard to breathe in the Jumper. But she didn't press him, didn't ask him about _relationships_ and _feelings_ and for that alone, John could have kissed her. "We should put the Jumper back together before Dr. Zelenka comes in to yell at us in Czech," she said.

John jumped at the suggestion. "I see you've learned the first rule of Atlantis."

"Don't talk about Atlantis?" Rory guessed, slipped a panel into place.

"No, don't piss off the man who controls the temperature of the showers." John reached over to steady the next panel as Rory moved it back. "Or the man who knows there they store the coffee."

Rory giggled. "Vala told me what you guys had to do for coffee when the drones had the city," she said. "How did you make it?"

"Barely," John said with a shudder. "Although considering some of the sludge I drank at McMurdo, I was better prepared than the rest."

The last panel went back into place with a clink. "Does Rodney like coffee?" Rory asked. "I mean good coffee, not just whatever comes along?"

John got to his feet and held his hand out to help Rory stand. Her palm felt curiously delicate in his grip in the moment before he let her go. "The scariest I've ever seen Rodney is when someone tried to take his last cup of coffee during the siege," he said, lifting his eyebrows to show Rory he was kidding. Even thought he really wasn't. "It might be a Canadian thing. Why?"

"Just curious," Rory said. "Thanks for showing me the Puddlejumper. You didn't have to."

John waved the gratitude away. "Don't worry about it. We need all the pilots we can get for these things." He hesitated as something occurred to him. "If you've never flown before, you'll need a lesson in the basics before you can take a Jumper off-world."

Rory fumbled with her computer. "Is there someone I can talk to about that?" she asked.

"I could do it," John said without thinking.

Rory's hand stilled on the screen. "You?"

John shoved his hands into his pockets. "Sure, why not?" he said. "If I can teach one McKay to fly, why not the other?"

"Oh." Rory bit her lower lip as she stared at John. "If you have time. I mean, I don't want to impose upon your schedule, Colonel Sheppard."

"It's not imposing," John said, even thought his mind was screaming at him to _back out of the offer now_. "We'll figure something out over the next few weeks. And you can call me John."

Wait.

What?

"Sure," Rory said. "That'd be nice. I mean, learning to fly." She backed out of the Jumper, more than a little flustered, then vanished around the corner at the end of the ramp with one quick backwards glance.

John stood staring after her. What the hell had just happened? Had he really just suggested teaching McKay's daughter how to fly a Jumper?

What was he thinking?

Reluctantly, John went back to the pilot's seat to run one final diagnostic to ensure he hadn't accidentally jimmied something loose. He'd get out of it somehow. He'd say he was busy and have Lorne teach Rory how to handle the Jumper's controls. It wasn't that hard; the Ancients had made these things almost idiot-proof. As long as someone had the Ancient gene, they could fly a Jumper.

It must have had something to do with how Rory had been looking at him with McKay's eyes. John must have been doing that transference thing his mom's therapist always talked about, projecting his issues with one person onto another. John's issues with Rodney had to be mucking up his head when it came to Rory Gilmore.

Because John Sheppard didn't spend two hours dismantling a Jumper with the new scientists, or offer to teach them to fly, or _touch their hair and tell them to call him John_.

If Rodney ever found out, John wouldn't have to worry about the Wraith killing him, because Rodney would get there first.

What the hell was he _doing_?

* * *

Going off-world with his team had been a mistake. John should have seen that before they left, but now they were on P5Z-3M4 and it was far too late.

John adjusted his P-90 on his vest as he watched Teyla negotiate with Ladren, head trader of a small group of people called the Kreddea. John wasn't sure where they came from, but they always used P5Z-3M4 as a trading ground.

"You will again consider the quality of the grain," Ladren cajoled Teyla as the woman took samples from every bag and handed them to Rodney for testing. "Such quality is not easy to come by in our Wraith-plagued galaxy."

"As you will consider the quality and prestige of the Earth footwear we offer in trade," Teyla replied easily, her smile equal to Ladren's.

The Kreddea excelled at being middle-men, getting whatever you needed from any number of sources. For a price. On the way over in the Jumper, John had tried to make a crack about the planet being some kind of "Middle Earth" but Rodney refused to acknowledge his existence. The resulting silence was painful. Now, John kept thinking of the wisecracks he couldn't make and it was making him cranky.

Ronon kept look-out at the foot of the Jumper, John alone at the other end of the field, watching the trading banter go back and forth. Finally, after John had made one too many "Sole food" jokes to himself, Teyla and Ladren shook hands on the deal. Ladren waved at his two boys to load the grain sacks into the Jumper under Ronon's watchful eye.

John sauntered across the field, nodding at the man and woman gathering the excess boots and shoes from Atlantis into traveling bundles. Teyla and Ladren concluded their quiet conversation as John approached.

"Colonel Sheppard!" Ladren exclaimed, his arms wide. John winced. He'd forgotten Ladren was a hugger. "As always, you receive the better end of the bargain."

"That's open to interpretation," John hedged. "We appreciate you trading with us today." Teyla had made him memorize certain catchphrases for when she was trading, to avoid a repeat of the _'Being chased through the Stargate with pitchforks'_ incident of 2006.

Ladren shrugged. "Life and business must carry on, even in the most difficult times." He placed one hand on Teyla's arm. "As always, we will listen for word of the Athosian people."

Teyla nodded an acceptance. "I thank you."

As Ladren wandered away to yell at the boys to hurry up. John made the mistake of glancing down at Teyla. She was staring at the boys, years younger than Jinto or Wex or their friends, but still achingly similar.

"We'll find them," John said quietly. Teyla shook herself out of her thoughts and looked up at him. "We'll find Michael and find out what happened to your people."

"We may," Teyla corrected him. She straightened her back and took a moment to compose herself before she walked across the field to collect Rodney.

Ladren and the Kreddea headed off to the Stargate with their bags of shoes. John ducked into the jumper, wading past the sacks of grain to the cabin. He waited for everyone else to get in, then closed the ramp and cloaked the ship out of habit while they waited for the wormhole to disengage.

"Why aren't we going?" Ronon asked.

"I want to check the stabilizers," John replied. The Jumper had flown funny on the way here, and John didn't feel like taking any chances at having to explain to Rodney why he had dismantled a Jumper with Rodney's daughter.

There should have been some kind of comment from Rodney, something like _What have you done now_ or _Let me do that or else we'll be here all day_ but there was nothing from the back seat. John clenched his jaw as he pulled up the screens and made the modifications.

"I can do this no longer," Teyla suddenly announced. John turned to look at her in the co-pilot seat. Her spine was ramrod straight as she stared out the front view screen.

"Can't do what?" John asked, a flutter of confusion in his stomach.

Teyla let out a slow breath. "I will no longer be going through the Stargate with this team," she said. "I will speak with Colonel Carter on this matter when we return to Atlantis."

"What? Why not?" Rodney demanded. "What's wrong? Is there something wrong with Torren?"

As the words tumbled out of Rodney's mouth, John could only stare at Teyla, his whole body going cold. She was the first person in this whole galaxy who had believed in him, stood by him no matter what. And now she was leaving?

John tried to come up with intelligent and reasonable to say, anything to make Teyla change her mind about leaving, when something hit the back of his chair. "What did you _do_?" Rodney demanded.

"Me?" John swung around, his panic coalescing into anger at a much more available target. "You're the one who usually messes things up--"

"Hey!" Ronon's voice boomed in the small cabin, startling everyone to silence. He sat forward, giving Sheppard a _what the hell is wrong with you?_ glare. "The Gate's free. We should go."

Sheppard turned back to the controls, punching and poking the controls to lift the Jumper into the air. If his hands shook a little, no one called him on it.

Teyla was leaving.

In the oppressive silence, John took the Jumper through the Stargate to the midway point, a space Gate above a deserted world. There, he set the Jumper into a steady orbit to wait for the wormhole to disengage before dialing Atlantis.

Rodney, inevitably, was the first to speak. "Why are you leaving?"

In her profile, John could see the twitch of Teyla's jaw before she opened her mouth. "My people are missing--"

"I said we'd find them," John interrupted.

She did not seem to hear him. "Which means that I am all my son has. If I were to die or be injured, he would be alone in the universe."

"He isn't alone," Rodney interjected. "He's got us."

"Yes, Rodney." Teyla finally turned around to face the group. John was surprised to see the pain on her face. "Everyone who would care for my son as his own, is in this Jumper."

Ronon made a rumble of discontent in his throat. "My people used to have a saying," he said. "A squad at odds walks openly into the Hive."

"What does that mean?" Rodney asked, blinking.

"It means if you can't trust the people you walk through the gate with to have your back, you're dead," Ronon clarified. "You're angry at Sheppard for not telling you about your kid."

"What does that have to do with trust?" Rodney demanded. Sheppard stared out the front window, watching the sun rise over the curve of the silent planet below.

"You're not listening to him and he's not telling you anything," Ronon continued, and seriously, who could have thought that _Ronon_ would become the voice of reason? "You're both being stupid, and if Teyla walks out now I wouldn't stop her."

"I am not walking out," Teyla protested with a hint of her usual fire. "I have responsibilities to my son--"

"You've got responsibilities to your people too," Ronon interrupted. He met her glare with aplomb. "If I knew a group of my people were out there, I wouldn't stop until I found them. Didn't think you would, either."

Teyla sat up, eyes snapping and ready to do battle, but John had officially had enough Satedan group therapy for the day. He slapped the controls to open the wormhole to Atlantis, sent through the IDC and sent the Jumper flying home before anyone else could draw verbal blood.

Back in Atlantis, the Jumper and its contents were sent through a complete decontamination. The botanists rolled the grain off to the scanning room to examine every single kernel for signs of poison or genetic tampering, while a medical team gave Sheppard's team an extensive exam. Normally, John hated this part of the new Gate travel routine, but today he milked it for every second he could. He was so compliant that Dr. Keller was a little worried when she gave him the final okay to leave.

Ronon was waiting for him in the hall. "Fix this," was all he said.

John threw his hands into the air. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" he demanded.

"Don't care." Ronon pushed off the wall to loom over Sheppard. "If Teyla doesn't keep looking for her people, she's never going to forgive herself."

"Ronon--"

"Like you can't forgive yourself for not going after Elizabeth when it might have made a difference."

Cold adrenaline shot through John, curling his hands into fists and setting his shoulders as if his body expected Ronon's words to be followed by a punch. When no further attack came, John made himself unclench his fists before he could find the breath to speak. "This is nothing like that."

Ronon didn't move, but even standing still he was a threat. "Yeah. You at least know what happened to Elizabeth."

John walked away. He had to, because if he heard one more word from Ronon about abandoning Elizabeth or losing Teyla or any of it, he would do something he regretted.

Even more than he regretted every single part of this day.

He went to his quarters to change, but the stillness soon drove him out. Lorne was on the track with a handful of officers, and John didn't feel like stilted conversation with the new Marines in the control room. Going near firearms when he was this angry seemed like a bad idea, too.

Which didn't really explain why he ended up outside Teyla's quarters.

She answered his knock quickly, ushering him into the room and closing the door on the noise from the hallway. John saw the reason at once. "How long has Torren been asleep?" he whispered.

"Since shortly before we returned, Alice tells me," Teyla replied softly. She sat on the bed beside her sleeping son, pulling the blanket up to cover his chest. The baby stirred, his long eyelashes fluttering against his round cheeks, but after a brief smacking of the lips he fell even deeper into slumber.

"Is he still waking up twice a night?" John asked, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Teyla.

Teyla shook her head, letting her head fall forward to rest on her hands. "He sleeps almost through the night now." She paused, and John wasn't sure if he heard a shiver in her voice. "He takes after his father in that. My mother once said that I did not sleep the night until I was old enough to climb out of my bed and run free by the fires."

"Lucky you, then," John said. He had no idea what to say to Teyla, but he needed to say something. Promise her that things would get better, that he and Rodney would work it out, that they'd find the Athosians some day, not to worry.

Far from taking any comfort in his words, Teyla let out a strangled sob. She covered her mouth with her hands as another sob shook her shoulders.

John's mind went blank. Teyla, who faced down Wraith without flinching, who could quell the most unruly of Marines with a glare, who'd almost literally been to hell and back in the protection of her unborn son, was _crying_.

John put an arm tentatively around her shoulders, pulling her close against him. She pressed her cheek against his chest as the silent sobs shook her slender body. "We'll find a way to fix this," John said against her hair, trying desperately to come up with a way to get Teyla to stop crying. "We'll find your people and we'll bring them home and I'll fix this thing with Rodney and everything will be good, I promise."

He stroked her hair as she buried her face in his shirt, her distress noiseless so she wouldn't disturb her sleeping son. Gradually, after what felt like hours but must really have been only seconds, Teyla released her death-grip on John's shirt and pulled slightly away. She wiped her hand across her face. "I am sorry," she said quietly, managing a wan smile. "Some days I find that this is all... It is sometimes hard to cope."

"Don't worry about it," John said, even though he still wasn't sure how to react. He wasn't comfortable with emotional women. His ex-wife had said so. Repeatedly. "I'd be freaking out too."

Teyla pressed her hand over her eyes, visibly drawing herself back together. "What if we do not find them?"

John laid his hand on Teyla's back, waiting until she looked at him. "We'll find your people," he said. "I told you. They have to be somewhere in this galaxy. We'll find them and we'll bring them back. Not one of us is going to stop until we do."

Teyla shifted her attention to Torren. She smoothed his fine dark hair off his forehead, smiling slightly as he settled under her touch.

"Are you really going to be able to stop going through the Gate to look for them?" John pressed.

Some of the tension went out of Teyla's shoulders. "I do not wish for that to happen, but I cannot continue as we have been, with you and Rodney at odds."

"So I'll fix that too," John said, refusing to think of exactly how he would pull that off. "If I can do that, will you stay on the team?"

Teyla shifted around to give John the full weight of her gaze. "If you and Rodney can truly settle your animosity, I will consider it."

It wasn't a yes, but it was as close as John knew he could get.

* * *

Rodney was in the ZPM room again, and the similarities to the last time they'd been here did nothing for John's nerves.

Rodney looked up to see who was blocking the doorway, and scowled when he saw John. "Haven't you ruined enough things for one day?" he demanded, turning back to the panel.

John rested his shoulder against the door frame, settling in for the long haul. Nothing with Rodney was ever easy, he knew from experience. "Teyla was crying."

That spun Rodney all the way around and to his feet. "What? Teyla? _Crying_?"

John nodded, feeling only a tiny twinge of conscience at betraying Teyla's confidence. It wasn't like Rodney would tell anyone. "Yep."

"Why? What did you do?"

John ignored the jibe. "Think about how hard this is for her. Her people are missing, she's a single mother, and she has to deal with us." He was careful to not look at Rodney as he said that last.

After a minute, Rodney asked, "Is she going to be all right?"

"Probably."

"Is she still going to quit the team?"

"It's a possibility," John acknowledged. "If we can't get our act together."

Rodney dropped his scanner with a clatter. "If _we_ can't get our act together?" he repeated loudly. "None of this is my fault!"

"You're the one who won't talk to me!"

"You knew about Rory three years ago and you didn't tell me!"

"The hell I did!" John shouted, taking one step into the small room. "I ran into a kid on the street who looked like you, and she was from a small town that you'd been in for two hours in 1984! How the hell did that translate to a long-lost McKay?"

"Why, because obviously Rodney McKay would never get a girl to like him in high school?" Rodney exclaimed, his color rising.

This wasn't going exactly as John had planned. "No! It never occurred to me that you'd knocked up the cheerleader on a school trip!"

"Why is everyone so convinced I was a social misfit in high school?"

This was a disaster. John should have had the good sense to walk away, but McKay knew how to push every one of his goddamn buttons. "First off, probably because they've met you," John counted. "Second, what's with the past tense?"

"Oh, yes, I'm so glad you came down here to insult me more!" Rodney shouted. "I have a daughter I didn't know about until a few weeks ago and you just _had_ to come down here to twist the knife a little more!"

"Fuck, McKay! Teyla is going to leave the team!" John raked his hands through his hair, wanting to kick something, rather than have this conversation. "She is going to _leave us_ if we can't make up!"

"Make up? When did we turn into ten-year-old girls?" Rodney demanded. "You didn't tell me about Rory--"

"And you won't shut up long enough for me to apologize for that!"

John's shout echoed around the power room. Rodney blinked at him for a ludicrously long minute.

Knowing enough to take any opening he could get with Rodney, John swallowed his pride and said, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I found out about Rory when we were on Earth."

Rodney looked away, bluster fading away. After a moment, he sank onto the chair in front of the control panel. John waited.

"She's smart," Rodney finally said.

"What?"

"Rory. She's really smart."

For Rodney to admit that without prodding was certainly something. "Carter said something like that."

"I mean, she's like me smart."

"Really?"

Rodney fiddled with the scanner absently. "Sort of. She's only been doing this for a year, so her work is sloppy and her reasoning is sloppy--"

"Please stop saying 'sloppy'."

"My point is, she knows a lot about ZPMs, almost nothing about anything else. But she learns quickly." There was that pride again, something John had only ever heard hinted at when Rodney spoke of Jeannie's accomplishments. "Some of her ideas are completely insane, but that's what happens with a liberal arts degree, I suppose."

John felt a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth. "You two are getting along?"

"Yeah, I suppose we are," Rodney said, surprised. "We can talk about all kinds of stuff. Except..."

John wanted to sigh. When had he signed up to be the team shrink? "Except what?" John prodded.

"She doesn't really talk about her mother."

"Maybe they don't get along?"

"No, they get along," Rodney said quickly. "I just... Rory doesn't seem to want to talk much about her mother.”

John had nothing to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut.

Rodney ran his finger along the edge of the console. "You saved her life," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"In New York. You pulled Rory out of the street before she was hit by a car."

John squirmed. "I didn't know it was her. I'd have done that for anyone."

"But you did it for Rory." Rodney's intense blue gaze was set on John. "You saved her before I even knew about her."

John met Rodney's stare. "It was just a coincidence we were there," he said, trying to deflect.

"Maybe." Rodney gripped the edge of the console, and he turned away. "Go tell Teyla we're all better and she has to stay on the team."

It was a dismissal, but the sting was gone from his words. John rolled his eyes and sighed, to hide the complete and utter relief at Rodney speaking with him again.

 _I am such a girl,_ John told himself, swinging back into the hallway. He'd made it about four steps when he pulled up short at the person blocking his path.

Rory Gilmore stood in the middle of the hall, two cups of coffee in her hands. Her eyes were wide and hollow. John's heart sank. How much of that had she just heard?

Rory swallowed convulsively. "She wasn't a cheerleader," Rory said quickly, voice too low to carry into the ZPM room. "My mother. Wasn't a cheerleader."

"Okay," John said.

"And she doesn't know Rodney's my father."

It was on the tip of John's tongue to ask how her mother could not have seen what an odd changeling child Rory must have been, but the emptiness in Rory's eyes stopped the words in his throat.

"You could have told him,” John said. “When you found out, last year, instead of springing this on him when you got to Atlantis.”

Rory flushed red, the coffee cups trembling in her hands. “You don't know anything about what was going on!”

"Maybe not, but Rodney still deserved better than not knowing.”

The word were out of his mouth before he could realize what an absolute hypocritical _asshole_ he was being. Before he could or do something even stupider than what he'd just said, John ducked around Rory and continued off down the hall.

John wasn't sure what was worse, his own blazing hypocrisy, or taking out his anger on Rory.

When it came to McKays, he couldn't do anything right.

* * *

John spent most of the next two days hiding in a herd of soldiers. At least they would be very unlikely to talk back to him, or start crying on his shoulder.

At the end of the two days, Teyla appeared, dragged John into the training room and proceeded to beat the crap out of him with sticks. She left smiling, and once the aspirin kicked in, John didn't really mind the bruises.

Much.

He limped into the cafeteria the next day to find his team at their usual table by the window. As Teyla ate, Ronon held Torren on his lap, thwarting the baby's continual attempts at freedom.

And there was an open chair beside Rodney.

Ever so casually, John sauntered across the cafeteria and dropped into the seat beside Rodney. No one objected or stalked away, which was a vast improvement on the other days of the last two weeks.

"Good morning, John," Teyla greeted him with a sunny smile. "Rodney was telling us of the continued efforts to determine if there were any more drones within the city."

"Sounds exciting," John drawled.

"You're just jealous because I saved the city without you," Rodney said through a mouthful of pancakes.

"You mean your daughter saved the city," John said, sneaking the apple off Rodney's tray.

Rodney gave him the evil eye. "Fine, that the scientists saved the city without you."

"I'll make up for it next time." John crunched into the apple to hide a grin. It seemed as if Rodney was finally learning, or perhaps willing, to share credit. "Hey, you get anything in the mail from last night's dial-up?"

"No." Rodney reached for his coffee. "I'm not sure I like spending the energy to dial Earth for the mail."

"We didn't dial Earth for the mail; we dialed for an important hardware upgrade and vital medical supplies," John reminded him. "The SGC just tossed the mailbag on top of the pile."

"Still, it's probably for the best that we're only allowing incoming matter transfers for the time being," Rodney mused. "Until we can confirm that all the drones are destroyed."

"How long's that going to take?" Ronon asked as he hoisted Torren into the air with one hand, the baby cackling with delight.

"Maybe a few more days, a week. Why?"

Ronon shrugged, nearly sending Torren flying. Teyla reached out to rescue her son from mid-air. "I'm just bored."

"I thought you were training with the new Marines," John said, pausing mid-chew.

Ronon shrugged again, this time with the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth that meant something wasn't quite right. John lifted his eyebrow, but Ronon only glanced away, then back again, so it wasn't a real problem, not yet.

John made a mental note to corner Ronon about the issue later.

"Good morning," came a bubbly voice. Rory Gilmore appeared at Rodney's side, clutching a small box to her chest. "Are you busy?"

"Of course not," Rodney said quickly. He pushed at John's shoulder. "Go get a chair."

"Why me?"

"You're closest."

"I'm not--" John gave up. He stood, gallantly offered his seat to Rory, then pulled over a chair from another table as Rory sat down and began speaking to Rodney.

"I didn't want to interrupt the team bonding breakfast thing but the mail came and I think this is what I asked my friend Lane to get for me as soon as she could," Rory said. John marveled how she had apparently inherited McKay's ability to speak at twice the speed of a normal person.

"What is it?" Rodney asked.

Rory tried to pick at the tape around the box, to no avail. Ronon whipped a nine-inch knife out of somewhere and offered it to Rory, who took the thing rather gingerly. No fingers were lost in the opening of the box, however, and Rory soon had the lid off to spill a handful of photographs onto the table.

"These are all you?" Rodney asked. He had a curious expression of trepidation on his face.

"Probably," Rory said, reading the small note that had been taped to the top of the box. "Lane says she borrowed these from my mother with the promise to scan them."

John was close enough to read over Rory's shoulder, especially the line that was underlined in big bold strokes, _Why didn't you want me to tell Lorelai you wanted these?_

Rodney hadn't moved. "Maybe, um, we don't want to bore everyone else."

The other three members of his team stopped what they were doing to stare, because since when was Rodney McKay worried about _boring them_?

John recovered first. "Don't worry about it, Rodney." He gave Rory a wink. "We're good."

Rodney might have come up with a retort, but at that exact moment Rory let out a sudden gleeful shriek. She grabbed a small book out of the bottom of the box. "Oh my God, Jess wrote another book!" she exclaimed, flipping through the pages quickly before going back to the front cover.

"Who's Jess?" Rodney asked, looking confused and totally out of his depth again.

"He's a friend of mine," Rory said. "An ex-boyfriend, really, but we're still good friends. He's a writer and this is his second book!"

Rodney's face scrunched up in a strange way. "Boyfriend?"

Rory turned her head to glare at him. "Seriously?"

"It's just that you're only--"

"Twenty-five. Are you really going to try to pull the Shotgun-Dad card after one week?"

Rodney looked helplessly at John, who put his hands up and figuratively backed away from the situation. He was so not getting involved in this.

"He's a good friend of mine. Focus on that part." Rory turned back to her book. Craning to look over her shoulder, John could see that inside the front cover was a handwritten inscription that read,

_Rory: You never stop surprising me. Thanks for always believing in me when I didn't even believe in myself.-Jess_

Someone kicked him under the table. John glanced up to see Teyla giving him a stern glare. He wasn't sure it mattered, as Rory hadn't paid him any attention, but he leaned back in his chair and pretended to be interested in the remains of his apple.

"I'll read this later," Rory said, easing the book gently back into the box. "But first, picture time."

Rodney shot to his feet. "I, um, I need more coffee," he announced, then stumbled off to the coffee station.

"You forgot your cup," Rory called after him. He didn't seem to hear her. She turned to John, frowning slightly. "Does he not want to do this now?"

John shook his head as he reached for Rodney's half-empty mug. "Trust me, he'd tell you. This is indecisive Rodney, that's all."

"He may not express it, but he is glad you are here, " Teyla added, her smile sincere and warm.

Rory blushed and smiled back, gathering the pictures into a tidy pile.

John took a deep breath. "Look, about the other day," he started, wincing at how weak that sounded. "I'm sorry. About what I said."

Rory shrugged, her hair sliding over her shoulder in a cascade. John's fingers twitched with the memory of how Rory's hair had felt in the Jumper. "You weren't wrong," Rory said quietly.

"I'm still sorry."

She smiled at him then, a small private smile that had nothing of McKay in it. "It's okay," she said. In her voice, John heard the same layers of guilt he'd been wrestling with himself over the past week, and he felt both better and worse at the same time.

Rodney came back then, holding two coffee cups. He set one down beside the pile of pictures and held the other with both hands, like a shield between him and the world.

Rory shoved the first picture at him. "Proof that I, in fact, did not spring fully formed from the head of Zeus."

The toddler in the photograph had blonde curls and a rather mulish expression on her face. "Wow, you look just like Jeannie," Rodney said, confusion giving way to recognition. John hid his smile behind the stolen coffee cup. McKay might actually be able to pull this father gig off after all.

"You look like a dandelion," John said. He caught sight of a photo that slipped out of the pile, of a teenage Rory in an honest-to-god plaid skirt and knee-high white socks, and he almost choked on his coffee.

"Are you doing to be okay?" Rory asked in concern, handing him a napkin from Rodney's tray.

John managed to nod. "I'm fine," he wheezed. "It's just this pesky drinking problem I've got."

Rodney didn't even spare John a glance, he was so engrossed in the photographs. Rory gave John a smile, which was probably pity at his inability to drink liquid, before turning back to her father.

Because Rory was McKay's daughter, and John was not going to think about her in a schoolgirl uniform with white knee socks, even if she had the photographic evidence to prove it. Because that would just be wrong. And possibly illegal.

Christ. McKay was going to _kill_ him.


	17. Jingle This

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the lab, not a creature was stirring save for the quiet tap-tap on the keyboard as Rodney hammered code into the computer. It wasn't his fault that everyone else was incompetent when it came to the Ancient code in the database. It only meant that Rodney was stuck in the lab when everyone else was gathered in the mess hall for Christmas pudding.

Everyone except for Zelenka, because Zelenka had gone and gotten himself knocked out by a twitchy exploding power circuit and was down for the count. Dr. Keller had promised them that Radek would be up and around in a week, with no burns, only a nasty concussion. Because Rodney was the head of the Science Department, he had responsibilities that didn't end when subordinates ended up in the infirmary. Even if it was Christmas Eve.

Soft footsteps on the floor pulled Rodney's attention away from his computer for a moment. Rory stepped into the pool of light shining from the desk lamp, carrying two steaming mugs. "I brought you some Christmas cheer," she said, placing one cup beside Rodney's keyboard. 

Rodney eyed the drink dubiously. "Isn't citrus a key ingredient in most forms of Christmas drinks?"

"I'm not going to kill you through anaphylaxis after working so hard to get here," Rory told him. "It's apple juice and some cinnamon, mixed with the wine the botanists have been brewing out in the East Tower greenhouses."

Warily, Rodney lifted the cup to his lips for a taste. The alcoholic kick made him wince, but once the burn mellowed, he found himself taking a second sip. "This isn't horrible," he said, mildly surprised. 

"I know," Rory said. "Dr. Keller wouldn't let them serve it until she'd made sure we wouldn't go blind from it, but it all worked out okay." The girl hesitated before leaning against Rodney's work table. "Why are you hiding in here?"

"I'm not hiding," Rodney muttered, setting the cup firmly on the table. He had never been one of those people who worked well when drunk. "With Zelenka in the infirmary, there isn't anyone else who knows enough about the Ancient systems who can make sure this code is up and running by the time the next scheduled scan of the city takes place tomorrow."

Rory kept looking at him. 

"So it needed to get done," he finished lamely. 

"The scan isn't scheduled until tomorrow night," Rory pointed out. "Plenty of time for you to come to the office Chrismahaunakwanzsolistica party for an hour and watch the Marines make asses of themselves while Chuck tapes it all for posterity."

"Chrismah-what?"

"Chrismahaunakwanzsolistica. Puts the best parts of Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and the Winter Solstice together into one raucous party. I'm just glad Ramadan was earlier this year or else that would just get totally out of hand."

Rodney started typing again. "I want to make sure the work is done."

"I could help you finish it tomorrow," Rory said. Rodney wasn't well versed in the emotional nuances of other people's words, but he thought he detected a slight hint of wistfulness in her voice. "If you wanted to come to the party now."

Rodney's hands came to a complete standstill on the keyboard. He had only known Rory for about a month, but he had already come to realize that in some things she was more stubborn than Jeannie. Now sounded like one of those times. Still, he tried to hedge. "With Zelenka unconscious for most of this week, there isn't the time."

"Oh." Rory's voice sounded very small. "Okay. I shouldn't bother you then."

Rodney's heart sank. She sounded sad, and it was most likely Rodney's fault. But how was he supposed to know how to deal with a daughter? He'd had a hard enough time dealing with a little sister over the years. He didn't know how to handle someone who wanted to spend time with him _just because_. 

And of course, there was no one here he could ask. No one he could talk to had kids except for Teyla, and Torren was too young to be a viable comparative subject. Rory was too old for the usual 'getting to know you' questions, and she was too devastatingly smart for Rodney to make himself seem important with science. Everything he gave her, she took in and worked over and came right back with another idea. It was like dealing with himself, and that wasn't exactly an comparison that made Rodney feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

But now, Rory was moving to leave. "Hold on," Rodney burst out. "You don't have to leave. You could..." What was the opposite of leaving? "You could stay."

Rory's smile brightened the whole room. "I don't really know what you're working on," she cautioned.

"I know," Rodney said. "But you'll figure it out eventually."

Rory hoisted herself up on the nearby work station, fiddling with her mug of Christmas cheer as she watched him work. Just as Rodney was beginning to be concerned about how _quiet_ she was being, Rory said, "Do you ever miss your family at Christmas?" 

Rodney gave a twitch of his shoulder, never breaking his typing. "My parents are dead. When I started working on the Stargate program, I didn't have a lot of time to spend with Jeannie."

"Oh."

Rodney's typing slowed. What was the 'Dad' thing to do here? Ask her if she missed her family? But Rory didn't ever really mention her family, outside of vague hints in the background. Which, come to think of it, wasn't exactly all that normal. People talked about their families all the time? John Sheppard might not, but then Rodney knew better than to use John Sheppard as his gauge of normal social interaction. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Rodney asked, "Do you miss your mother?"

Rory nodded slowly, her eyes downcast. Something about her posture made Rodney wonder if she was about to start crying. The mere thought that his daughter might start crying was enough to make him want to panic. It wasn't like she was five and a cookie would fix things. "This is the first Christmas I've ever spent away from my mom," Rory said after a minute. She took a long swig from her cup. "Stupid, isn't it? I'm in Atlantis with this amazing stuff all around me, and I'm getting upset about this."

Oh god, were those tears in her eyes? _Think, Rodney, think!_ He was the smartest man in two galaxies, and he should be able to find something to comfort Rory. "What do you normally do at Christmas?"

For a moment, he thought he'd asked the wrong question, because Rory suddenly looked as if she really might break down. She set down her cup, breathing hard for a minute. When she spoke, the waver in her voice was under control. "Mom always came in to wake me up at an ungodly hour to open presents, usually about two hours before dawn. Then we'd have the traditional Gilmore Christmas Poptarts for breakfast and head off to Sookie's for Christmas dinner or something."

Rodney's head whirled. This was the most Rory had spoken of her mother in the month she'd been in Atlantis. Rodney had a hard time reconciling the wild, carefree teenage Lorelai he had known, with being a mother to this strange child. 

"Even as far back as I can remember, when we were at the inn, we always spent the whole day together, watching bad movies on TV or hanging out." Rory wrapped her arms around herself, bending over as if she were in pain. "I sent Mom a long letter for Christmas, but it's not like I can talk about anything that I'm doing, is it?"

Rodney pushed himself to his feet. In spite of only knowing Rory for a month, he had seen that physical posture in Jeannie and his mother and other women over the years. He might not be that great with people, but he wasn't totally insensitive. 

"It's, um, she'll understand," Rodney said, moving to Rory's side and putting an arm around her shoulder. It should have been awkward, because Rodney McKay wasn't a hugger, but it wasn't too bad. Rory leaned her head against Rodney's shoulder. "It's just that you don't talk much about your mother so I wasn't sure if you got along or you just didn't want to bring her up or what."

Rory patted Rodney's hand, gently pulling away to sit straight. "I didn't know how to talk about her," she confessed, looking at Rodney with pain-filled eyes. "Everything's changed so much over the past year that I don't know what to do."

"With the paternity thing?" Rodney guessed. He hated having to ask when he wasn't sure of the answer. 

Rory shook her head. "I used to tell myself that was it, but it's not. Not really. I found out about Chris in January, but this whole mess started last December when I quit my job and moved home." She pressed her hands to her face. "Sorry, I'm rambling when you're trying to work."

"It's okay," Rodney said. "I can do it all tomorrow morning, I just didn't want to go to the Christmas party."

Rory sighed. "You're not supposed to tell me these things."

"What? I don't exactly relish the idea of mingling with the minions."

"It's best not to call them 'minions' in their earshot."

"They're not here, are they?" Rodney waited for Rory's annoyance to fade. "Why don't you talk about Lorelai?"

Rory shrugged. "She's always been my best friend, until I lost track of who I was."

Rodney frowned at the phrase. "What are you talking about?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Well, I'm very smart, so try me."

That brought a tiny smile to Rory's lips. "Do you really want to hear this, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

"I do want to know." Rodney tried to come up with a logical reason, failed, and so settled on, "I should know something about you since you're my daughter." His voice caught on the last word, when the incredulousness of the situation hit him. He, Rodney McKay, had a grown daughter. Was that ever going to stop sounding strange?

A shade of happiness seemed to break through Rory's mood. "Do you like knowing you're right?" she asked, seemingly out of left field for Rodney. 

"I-- what?"

"Do you like knowing you're right?" Rory repeated. "Knowing that at the end of the calculations, or research, or whatever you're doing, you will know instantly if you are right or wrong?"

Rodney didn't know what Rory was going for, but he couldn't see the harm in answering truthfully. "A little. Okay, yes," he amended to Rory's look. "Why?"

"For the longest time, I didn't have any answers. I was writing, but there wasn't any right or wrong, just opinion."

Rodney couldn't help himself. "I thought that was the whole point of an arts degree."

"It is. Or was, I guess." Rory turned her head to look out the window at the rising moons. "Last December, I realized that I was sick of needing other people's opinions to validate my entire existence."

Rodney frowned. "Isn't twenty-four a little young to have a midlife crisis?"

"Maybe. But it turned everything I _was_ upside down and I didn't know how to explain to my mother. One day, I found myself quitting my job and moving back to Stars Hollow, taking odd jobs for money and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me."

Rodney fidgeted, wondering if it would be rude to call a break in the conversation to retrieve his drink. "Did you ever figure it out?"

Rory shook her head. "I was trying to, but then I found out about you and I started looking into physics and I didn't have the time to think about that any longer."

"But, you found an answer of sorts, right?" Rodney asked. "You found something that worked for you."

"You mean the math?"

"Of course I mean the math," Rodney said quickly to Rory's dubious look. "Look at what you've done so far in Atlantis. You'd have been wasting your brains writing the gossip column in the Hartford Daily--"

Rory sat up straight, eyes flashing dangerously. "I never wrote the gossip column!" she protested indignantly.

"Whatever, it's all the same," Rodney said dismissively. "My point is, you're doing amazing work in physics. You're smart, really smart. One day, you'll be almost as smart as I am--"

"Thanks."

"And I can't see why your mother would have a problem with that. If she liked you fine when you were writing things for a two-bit paper no one's ever heard of, why wouldn't she like you when you're working on physics to save the world?"

"I don't know!" Rory exclaimed, startling Rodney to silence. "I don't know why I didn't tell her any of this, or about Chris, or about you. Okay? I just don't know why!"

She hopped off the desk and crossed to the window, to stare out the glass at the sea.

"I'm not being fair to her and I don't understand _why_ ," Rory said to the ocean. "But the longer I don't tell her, the harder it's going to be to finally explain. If I ever can."

Rodney sank back into his chair, wondering what kind of woman Lorelai had become. "Do you think it would bother her that I'm your..." He wasn't able to finish the question.

"Not like you're thinking," Rory said. "It'll bother her that she didn't know, and I don't know if she'll ever forgive me for not telling her. After all that, the biological fact that you donated half my genetic code won't seem like that big of a deal."

Rodney spent a few minutes churning through Rory's revelations. Finally, he asked, "Why haven't you told your mother? About me?"

Rory rested her head against the window. "I honestly do not know," she admitted. "I tried to tell her when I went back to Stars Hollow before I came to Atlantis, and the words got stuck in my throat."

Rodney wished he had some sort of advice to give Rory, but the issue of unknown paternity had never factored into his life before Rory had stepped through the Stargate. He cleared his throat. "I know I'm not your mother..." And what sort of a stupidly idiotic thing was that to say? "But if you ever want to talk about stuff, I'm good at listening. Or multitasking while listening and working on things."

Rory turned from the window, her hair catching faint hints of moonlight in the darkness. "As long as you know that you can ask me anything you want."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't been talking about my life, and you haven't been asking. Just... if you want to ask me anything, you can. It's okay."

The lab door whooshed open, saving Rodney from having to respond to that. In sauntered John Sheppard, looking suspiciously jolly. "Hey, there you two are," he said. "Why are you hiding down here?"

Rodney rolled back to his workstation. "We're not hiding. We're having a serious conversation."

John waved that protest away, leaning against a convenient wall and beaming his most genial smile at Rory. "Christmas Eve is no time for serious conversations, it's time for expedition bonding. Come on, Teyla's using the baby to get all the best chocolate and Keller even let us roll Zelenka in from the infirmary."

"We'll be up in a few minutes," Rory promised, not bothering to consult Rodney. "I promise."

Sheppard continued to smile in such a way that Rodney wondered if the Colonel had partaken of a little too much of the botanists' special brew. "I'm going to hold you to that, Gilmore. McKay works too much for his own good." With a tip of the hat to Rory, Sheppard spun in a circle and walked out of the room. 

A faint suspicion crossed Rodney's mind, that Sheppard might actually have been _flirting_ with Rory... but no. He rid himself of that thought immediately. Rory was just a kid. John wouldn't flirt with a kid, especially Rodney's kid.

Meanwhile, Rory asked, "Was he wearing an elf hat?"

"All the better to go with his pointy ears," Rodney said as he closed down his work station. If he was going to be dragged to the office Christmas party, he'd better make sure that nothing could possibly break in his absence. 

"Where would someone get an elf hat in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"I have no idea." Rodney grabbed his mug and headed for the door, Rory hurrying to follow him. "It's usually best to blame the Marines."

"I blame the linguists, myself," Rory said, matching Rodney's hurried pace. "Half the time they have a hard time switching back and forth between languages and forget what you blame them for." She caught his arm. "Come on, have you seen what they've dressed Torren in?"

Rodney let out a groan. "It's going to be adorable, isn't it?" he asked. "They'll give him to me to hold and I'll have to pretend I like children."

Rory managed the difficult task of taking a drink while rounding a corner. "You like Torren."

"He's not bad," Rodney admitted. "Of course, he can't talk yet, and he's not very mobile."

"Play nice for Teyla. Mothers always enjoy a baby's first Christmas."

"She doesn't _get_ Christmas. Last year she came very close to throwing Sheppard off the balcony as he tried to explain roasting chestnuts over an open fire to her." As father and daughter were about to enter the mess hall, Rodney hesitated. "Is everyone in there?"

"I think so. Why?"

"That probably means Katie's in there." Rodney's heart sank. "I think I should go back to the lab."

Rory held onto Rodney's arm, preventing him from leaving. "Katie Brown? From botany?"

Rodney coughed, not wanting to answer Rory's question in any way. The muted roar from the other side of the mess hall door was deafening.

"In answer to your question, everyone is in there now," Rory said. "Now that you got your wish and we can't send anything through the Atlantis gate until you check out the city for any more hidden Trojans, the personnel heading for Earth have to wait until next week for the Daedalus."

"So this is all my fault?"

Rory whapped Rodney's arm. "So are the rumors about you and Katie true? That she thought you were going to propose and you never did?"

"That might be the case," Rodney prevaricated.

"Why did she think that?"

This was why Rodney didn't like conversations about his life, because he always came off looking like the bad guy. "I was thinking about proposing but it just... it wasn't right."

"So it was good that you didn't do it then," Rory said. "Stop being such a grouch about things you can't change and enjoy the party." She hauled him bodily through the door into the melee. The Marines had set up camp in the corner around the food, while various scientists chattered in various states of mild intoxication. By the balcony, Sam Carter was having a grand old time talking with Major Lorne, while a woozy Zelenka was set up in wheelchair with Dr. Keller hovering nearby. Katie Brown was nowhere to be seen, although Rodney had to admit he didn't look very hard. 

Rory let Rodney go just in time for him to crash headlong into Sheppard. "Easy there, buddy," Sheppard said, manhandling Rodney into a chair beside Teyla. "The party's just started."

"That's what I'm worried about," Rodney said, but no one listened. It was only then that he saw what Rory meant about Torren. Some deluded soul had wrapped Torren in a bath towel and placed him in a straw-filled box beneath the fully lit Menorah, which in turn was draped with holly. "This is just not the sort of thing we wish to encourage!"

Torren burbled happily, waving his little fists while Teyla kept her hand on his back to prevent him toppling to the floor. "What is wrong with it?" she asked.

"It's the baby in the manger... thing," Rodney finished lamely. He had no real desire to explain to Teyla the origins of Christianity, mostly because the whole thing sounded like more mumbo-jumbo than most Earth customs. 

"I think it's cute," Rory gushed, placing a small round object onto the present pile beside the manger. "Torren even has his three wise guys."

Rodney looked at John in his elf hat and Ronon slumped over a plate of food, and sighed. "I didn't know there were supposed to be presents."

"It's Christmas," John said, frowning at Rodney. "You didn't make a present for the baby on Christmas?"

"Christmas isn't until tomorrow," Rodney protested. "What did you get him?"

"I made him the outfit."

"You wrapped him in a towel and put him in an allergen-filled box?" 

"Teyla thought it was cute," John said defensively. "Didn't you?"

Teyla smiled benevolently at them. "It was an interesting idea," was all she said. 

A Marine-shaped whirlwind swept up to the table. "Hey, Gilmore," exclaimed Staff Sergeant Herrera. "How's your aim?"

Rory backed away. "What would I be aiming at?"

"The traditional Atlantis piñata."

"We have a piñata tradition?" John asked from the depths of his cups.

"We will in about five minutes, sir." Herrera held out his hand to Rory. "Come on, I'll spot you a couple of blows."

"Why don't you whack the piñata on your own?" Rory asked.

"I've got a few years of sniper training," Herrera said, failing miserably at appearing humble.

"What he means is, he could shoot out the middle of a coke bottle in the dark from five clicks away in a dust storm," John added. "No one's going to let him anywhere near the piñata."

"I don't know..."

Herrera looked at her with wide eyes. "Please?

Rory wavered for a moment, then let herself be pulled towards the Marine crowd. "You're going to regret blindfolding me and setting me loose with a bat!" she exclaimed, then the crowd swallowed them up.

Rodney stared after them. Was this supposed to be a Father moment? Was he supposed to give Rory the lecture about not taking candy from strange Marines?

John nudged his arm. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop glaring at Herrera like he's dragging Rory off to a shotgun wedding."

"I wasn't--"

"You were," Ronon interrupted. "What's a piñata?"

The inevitable description of odd Earth customs took several minutes, hampered by Sheppard's alcoholic cheery air. Only in the Pegasus galaxy could they find someone who knew what a shotgun wedding was, but was ignorant of piñatas. Rodney turned it all out after the first sentence. 

Christmas carols drifted through the air, almost drowned out by the cheerful voices raised in celebration. Rodney mused that maybe he should have sent an email to Jeannie for Christmas. Things had been so hectic that he hadn't gotten to it. And now he was going to have to explain about Rory, he realized, his heart sinking. After all the grief that Rodney gave Jeannie about having a kid in grad school... his sister was going to _kill_ him.

Glancing at the Marines, Rodney could just make out Rory whacking a stick against the piñata shaped like the flying lizards on the mainland. This was his _daughter_ that was about to put someone's eye out. His child, someone who as just as smart as he was. 

Sheppard nudged his arm. "Don't worry about Herrera," he said in an undertone too low for anyone else to hear. "She's not his type."

"Why not?" Rodney protested, suddenly angry that someone might not think his kid was good enough.

John rolled his eyes. "She is not his type," he said again, this time laying the emphasis on the first word. Then he waggled his eyebrows in a Groucho Marx manner.

Rodney blinked. "I thought you weren't supposed to ask about those sorts of things."

"I didn't ask. He didn't tell." John's hand landed heavily on Rodney's arm in a reassuring pat. "She's fine."

"I know," Rodney said.

"Come on, what are you going to make Torren for a belated Christmas present?" John continued. 

"I haven't thought about it."

"I have." John beamed, his elf hat slipping lower on his head. "Let's make him a trike."

"A tricycle?" Rodney repeated. "He can't even stand! How is he going to get the necessary gross muscle coordination to pedal a trike?"

"He'll grow into it. Have you got a better idea?"

"How do I know what kids need? Why not just make him a little remote-controlled four-wheel off-roader and be done with it?"

He had meant it as a joke, but John's face lit up at the suggestion. "We could cannibalize one of the broken MALPs for wheels, right?"

"Sheppard--"

"We could outfit it with a little crash cage and a remote control and we race him down on the ramps where we race the cars, how does that sound?"

Teyla leaned into the conversation. "You will not be putting my son into anything that includes a 'crash cage'," she said archly. 

John's face fell. "Fine." He glanced over at the piñata party again. "I don't think Carter would like us misappropriating the MALP, anyway."

"How about a wagon?" Rodney suggested. "A little red one?"

A smile spread across John's face "There is a good idea, McKay. I knew we kept you around for a reason."

"Thanks." Rodney was already drawing up mental plans for the wagon, wondering where they might be able to cage the rubber for the wheels and if the chemists could be bribed into making some red enamel paint.

Rory emerged from the crowd, arms full of candy and trinkets. She almost tripped as she sat down, spilling her armful across the tabletop. "Who wants chocolate?" she asked, her smile for everyone. 

Sheppard, proving once again that he was part magpie, immediately went for the shiniest piece of candy. Teyla gathered Torren onto her lap and held a small wooden toy in front of him to play with. 

Rory scooted her chair close to Rodney. "Thanks for coming to the party," she said, giving him a sideways hug. 

"It's okay," Rodney said, which was his secret code for _I'm not having a terrible time_. 

Rory picked a piece of chocolate from the pile on the table. "Not a bad first Christmas Eve with a daughter, is it?"

Rodney shook his head, wondering anew at the strange turns his life took since coming to Atlantis. He had a daughter, and he had his team, and while nothing was perfect, they were trying to make things better.

All in all, not a bad first Christmas Eve at all.

* * *

Lorelai stared at the dark corner where a Christmas tree should be, and wondered if the gaping pit of pain in her stomach would ever go away. 

The gnawing worry about Rory, her little baby girl, had been eating away at her for over a year, the helplessness at watching Rory disintegrating a little more every day. The previous winter, Rory had grown increasingly fragile, until Lorelai was convinced that one day she'd fall to the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces. 

Then Rory had gone to Colorado, leaving Lorelai behind.

Paul Anka raised his head from his place on the floor, listening intently to some secret sound only dogs could hear. Lorelai wasn't sure if he could see in the dark, any more than she could, but something had attracted his attention. So Lorelai wasn't too surprised when someone knocked on her front door. She sat still, waiting for whoever it was to take a hint from the dark house and lack of noise. Unfortunately, no one in Stars Hollow had the sense given to little green apples, and the knocking came again.

Paul Anka could take no more. He leapt to his feet and padded to the front door, barking the whole time. 

"Lorelai?" someone called out as the door handle rattled. "Is everything okay?"

With a resigned sigh, Lorelai struggled to her feet and went to let Luke in. "Hey," she said after opening the door. "What's up?"

Luke frowned at her, then at the dark hallway, then back at her. "Your jeep was here but the lights weren't on and Paul Anka was going nuts."

"Yeah?"

"So why are you sitting in the dark? Is everything okay?" The minor irritation on his face changed. "Is Rory okay?"

The pain chewed out from Lorelai's stomach. "She's fine," Lorelai said. "I got an email from her this morning."

"Oh." Luke put his hands into his jacket pockets. "That's good."

When nothing else was forthcoming, Lorelai rested her head against the door. "Why are you here?"

Luke shrugged. "You weren't at Miss Patty's Christmas Eve party and I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"I'm fine," Lorelai said automatically, wondering if there was anything she could do to make Luke go away. 

But Luke just looked at her, and all the frustration and confusion and pain bubbled up in Lorelai's stomach, threatening to overwhelm her. "You don't look fine," Luke said in a quiet voice. 

All Lorelai could do was stand there, letting the heat out of the house. Luke gently took her arm and walked her into the living room, turning on lights as he went. Without a word, he sat Lorelai on the couch, wrapped an old blanket around her shoulders, and vanished into the kitchen. Very soon, the familiar smell of coffee drifted down the hall. He reappeared, holding a cup of coffee liberally dosed with milk and, when Lorelai tasted it, sugar. The drink was fortifying, and by the time she'd downed half the cup, Lorelai almost had control over her emotions again. 

"What's going on?" Luke asked, sitting on the couch beside Lorelai. 

Lorelai rested the coffee cup on her knee. She knew better than to lie to Luke, and frankly at this point she was too tired and too sad to try. "This is the first Christmas ever that I'm not going to see Rory," she said. "Every year, she'd be _here_ , wherever here was, and if it wasn't on Christmas day, like when she went to London, then I knew she'd come back soon and we'd have Christmas later. But now she's god-knows-where and I don't know when I'm going to see her again."

"You'll see her again," Luke reassured her.

"Will I?" Lorelai demanded. "She went to Colorado in March and I only saw her three times before she suddenly ships off to some top-secret war zone or something. She says she's coming home in six months, but will she?"

"She'll come home," Luke said. "She always does."

Lorelai shook her head. "It's different this time. Things have changed and I don't know what to do."

Luke carefully put his arm around Lorelai's shoulders. Not caring what this meant, if it meant anything at all, Lorelai put her coffee cup on the side table before leaning against Luke's side. He was warm and fuzzy in his flannel shirt, smelling of the diner and coffee, and he was _Luke_ and he was there. 

"Why do you say everything's changed?" Luke asked.

"Rory used to talk to me about everything, but last year when she quit her job and came home and started working diner jobs, she just stopped talking. About everything." Lorelai closed her eyes against the memory. "She wouldn't tell me what was wrong, what had happened, any of it. And then Chris got sick and Rory flipped out over that for a while, then all of a sudden she started going to the library all the time and then she went to Colorado and stayed there."

"Did she ever tell you why she started working on... what was it? Physics?"

Lorelai shook her head against Luke's shoulder. "She just said that she was good at it. I don't even know what she's doing."

"Is it complicated?"

"Probably. But I don't know, because she won't talk to me about it. And I have no idea what I did wrong."

Luke ran his hand over Lorelai's hair, such a familiar gesture that she wanted to cry. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said. "You helped her out in every way you could, and when she found something to focus on, you supported her all the way."

"Did I?" Lorelai asked. "All I can think is that I should have tried to understand more, but I was just confused."

"Sometimes the best thing you can do is not to get in someone's way," Luke said. His arm tightened around her shoulders, holding her close.

Lorelai felt tears pricking at the edges of her eyelids. "I don't understand what's happening to my little girl and it's freaking me out."

"She's doing good things, isn't she?"

"She says she is. She can't talk about any of it, but her email said that she's in the best place she could possibly be for her work."

"How does she sound in her emails?" 

"Like there's something she's not telling me."

"More than the top-secret military stuff?"

Lorelai nodded.

"Like what? A guy?"

"I don't know!" Lorelai exclaimed, sitting up. "I don't know why she'd hide anything from me, it's not like I haven't seen every tiny part of her life since she was born." Something occurred to her from out of left-field. "Oh my god, what if she's gay?"

Luke stared at Lorelai. "When would she have been gay? What about Dean and Jess and that Logan character?"

"Right. So not gay." Lorelai chewed on her lip. The sugar in the coffee had hit her bloodstream like a sledgehammer and it was hard to think. "Maybe it's an older man. Or what if he's married?"

Luke caught Lorelai's flailing hands and held them steady. "Maybe," he said once Lorelai quieted, "You should ask her."

"What if she thinks I'm prying?"

"You're her mother. You always pry into her life. It's expected."

"But what if--"

Luke squeezed Lorelai's hands, cutting her off. "You won't know until you ask. Now, are you going to sit home all night, or are you going to come to Miss Patty's with me?"

Lorelai looked at Luke, so stable in her life for so long, even when she didn't deserve him at all. "Would you have dinner with me next week?" she blurted out.

"What?"

"Dinner. Like every night when I come into the diner and have food, only maybe more like a date than that because you would sit and eat too." Lorelai felt her cheeks redden. "Or not. I don't know what I'm saying, it's got to be hypoglycemia--"

"Yes," Luke said quietly. Lorelai stared at him, open-mouthed. "Yes, I'd like to have dinner with you next week."

"Oh." Lorelai looked down at their hands, still joined. 

"Now, you should come to Miss Patty's, because everyone in town is worried about you." From the background, Paul Anka barked. "See? You're outnumbered." Luke helped Lorelai stand. "Hurry before all the food is gone."

Lorelai squeezed Luke's hand. "What am I going to do about Rory?" she asked, unable to let the worry go.

"You tell her that you're there for her, and you worry about her. What else can you do?"

"But what if that's not enough?"

"It'll be enough until she comes home."

"What if she doesn't?"

"She always comes home to you." There was such belief on Luke's face that Lorelai couldn't speak. "This time won't be any different."

However, Lorelai's stomach churned with the gnawing, soul-crushing worry that she might never get her daughter back to the way Rory had been before this whole mess started.


	18. It's A Skywalker Thing

"Maddie?" Jeannie Miller called up the stairs. The noise level in her daughter's room had fallen considerably in the last ten minutes. "Everything okay?"

"I'm reading a book to Frank the Tiger!" Madison shouted.

"Okay," Jeannie replied. "Come downstairs if you want a snack."

There was no reply, but Jeannie hadn't expected one. Once Madison got into her books, there was no prying her away. Just like her dad.

Satisfied that Madison was occupied for the moment, Jeannie returned to her computer. The math paper on inter-dimensional neutrino cross-flow wasn't going to write itself, no matter how hard she wished it would.

Thinking about math made Jeannie think about her brother. She'd known that her brother Meredith and Atlantis had gone on radio silence for six months, thanks to her security clearance, but that communications had since been restored. Three weeks before, she had received an email from Meredith that had read, _"We're alive, thanks to me. Is that proof you were working on done yet?"_

His acerbic email did much to cheer Jeannie. Meredith Rodney McKay at his sarcastic best was just like old times.

With a sigh, Jeannie went back to her calculations.

A few minutes later, her SGC inbox pinged with the arrival of a new message. To Jeannie's surprise, it wasn't from her brother or Samantha Carter or any of the scientists she'd met in Colorado or Atlantis. Curious, she opened the message.

_**To** : Jeannie Miller [J.Miller@cheyenne.af.mil]_   
_**From** : Rory Gilmore [R.Gilmore@cheyenne.af.mil]_   
_**Subject** : Rodney McKay's birthday_

_**Body** :_

_Mrs. Miller,_

_Hello. I work with your brother, and I recently learned that his birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and I'm arranging a party for him. I know it might be short notice, but I was hoping that you might be able to send a present for him. Perhaps something coffee related? There was a recent coffee shortage here, and Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard tells me that he's never seen Rodney so close to violence as when the coffee ran out._

Jeannie laughed out loud. That sounded like Meredith, all right.

_If you would be able to do this, please address the package to Lt.Col. Cameron Mitchell at Cheyenne Mountain. I'm not sure how frequently the mail will be delivered to our location, so I wanted to write with time to spare._

_Thank you very much._

_Rory Gilmore_

Jeannie sat back, mind whirling. She hadn't met this woman on Atlantis, and Meredith hadn't mentioned her, so she must be new. And she was organizing a birthday party for Meredith? He hated birthday parties... although that might have been because no one ever came to them. Jeannie vividly remembered Mer's twelfth birthday, where Dad had decorated the house and Meredith had sat in the front foyer, waiting in vain for anyone from school to show up to his party. That was the last time Meredith had let anyone make a fuss over his birthday.

Was this woman was trying to make nice with the boss? Or was she really interested in having a birthday party for Mer? In any case, Jeannie felt an instant gratitude to her. Everyone's forty-first birthday should be a good one.

"Madison!" Jeannie called, closing her computer. "Maddie, honey, get your rain jacket, we're going shopping!"

A few moments later, footsteps pounded down the steps and Madison tore into the kitchen, clutching a book in one hand. "Where are we going, mommy?" she asked.

"I thought we'd catch the Skytrain to go downtown, what do you think?"

Madison let out a cheer. "Can I ride in the front?" she asked, dashing into the hall. "And I want to pay for the tickets and ride the escalators and everything!"

Jeannie dashed off a quick note to Caleb, telling him where they were going, then merrily wrestled her daughter into her rubber boots. It didn't matter that it was a Vancouver day in January and that the rain was pounding down fit to wash away the roads. Someone wanted to make her brother's birthday a special one, and Jeannie was going to help.

* * *

Jeannie and Madison hopped onto a nearly empty Skytrain. Madison stood at the front window and kept up a monologue about how much she liked the Skytrain and her Uncle Meredith and birthday parties. Jeannie kept one hand on Madison's back, telling herself it was to make sure the girl didn't fall over if the train stopped suddenly.

Meredith hadn't understood why Jeannie had left academia when she got pregnant, and Jeannie didn't know if she could ever explain it to him, but here, now, riding on a humid Skytrain on a grey January day with her little girl bubbly and happy and so totally alive, Jeannie would do it all over again without a second thought.

They got off at Commercial to make a run down to a little Italian coffee roaster Jeannie had discovered in her third year of grad school. Five pounds of coffee beans for Meredith and a hot chocolate for Madison later, they got back on the Skytrain and continued downtown. They swung through the tourist district on the waterfront, and Jeannie let Madison pick out as much Canadian kitsch as she could carry; flags and maple sugar and a little stuffed Olympic mascot for Meredith's desk.

Then, as the coup de grâce, Jeannie found a Tim Horton's and bought their biggest tin of ground coffee, wishing she would be able to see Meredith's face when he opened the box. He hated Timmy's. The cost of overnighting the package to Colorado made her eyes pop, but she gritted her teeth and handed over her debit card. It wasn't every day she got to send an intergalactic care package, after all.

By that point, Madison was starting to fade, so Jeannie called Caleb to meet them at a restaurant after he was done classes. It had been a marvelous day.

* * *

Meredith's birthday came and went, but Jeannie didn't have time to wonder if he had received her package because Madison had fallen off the swings at kindergarten and broke her arm. Between hospital visits and doctors' appointments and the occasional freak-out, Jeannie had her hands full.

Eventually, things calmed down. Madison was back on her feet, sporting a neon pink cast with stickers all over it, and Jeannie was working through the panic attacks of her little girl having an accident.

Into this situation, an email fell.

Late on an inconsequential Thursday, Caleb finished up the dinner dishes while an excited Madison explained how her class's pet gecko could climb the glass walls of its terrarium. Jeannie, who had heard the story twice on the way home from school, took a moment to check her email.

The speakers pinged as a large email began to download. Jeannie sighed as she swung the computer around. Meredith must be back at work. If this was another dissertation on how her latest calculations were completely off-base, she was going to write to John Sheppard to tell him to take Mer's birthday coffee away.

To Jeannie's mild surprise, a video file was attached to the email. Since Mer sometimes let his mouth run away with him, Jeannie took the laptop into the living room, away from Madison's impressionable ears. Settling onto the couch, she opened the file to see Mer's face filled the screen. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. Jeannie's heart sank. She wasn't really sure she wanted to hear whatever had put that expression on her brother's face. Had the birthday party been a disaster?

"Jeannie, hello." Mer hesitated. "I have something I need to tell you."

Forget worry. Jeannie was heading straight towards panic. Was Meredith okay? Was he sick? Had something happened to John or Ronon or Teyla?

"Um, thanks for the coffee," he said, his shoulders hunching forward slightly. "It was nice. The, um, gift concept thing. Madison's card was cute. Atrocious spelling, but she'd only five, so I guess that's not an academic disaster quite yet."

Jeannie let out a little growl. Honestly, if he didn't get to the point soon...

"I had something I wanted to say to you," Meredith continued. "I'm not exactly sure how to say this, but I figured I should tell you now instead of waiting until I see you next, which might not be for a while and I'd rather you weren't in slapping distance when you found out."

Jeannie frowned at the screen. Seriously, what was Meredith talking about?

"First of all, I need to..." Meredith drew a deep breath. "Apologize again for how I overreacted when you left school because you were pregnant. I really could have.... you know." He made a pushing gesture with his hands. "Handled that better."

Just as Jeannie was considering tearing her hair out if Meredith didn't _get to the point,_ he looked directly into the camera and said, "I have a daughter."

"Oh my god!" Jeannie exclaimed, accidentally hitting the pause button.

Caleb poked his head out of the kitchen. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Jeannie said distantly, realizing too late that it was a complete lie. What had Meredith done now? He must have gotten someone pregnant! But who...

Jeannie clapped her hands to her mouth. Before Atlantis went into the six-month radio silence, Mer had sent her an email saying that his teammate Teyla was pregnant. He hadn't meant... He _couldn't_ mean that!

"Jeannie?" Caleb said again.

She lowered her hands. "It's fine," she said, more firmly this time. "I need to watch the rest of this, can you keep Maddie in there?"

"If you want," Caleb said, his curiosity showing as he withdrew.

Jeannie lowered a shaking hand to the keyboard. If Meredith told her that he and Teyla had just had a baby, Jeannie was going to need a drink. A big one.

The video resumed with Meredith talking. "... and I knew that if I didn't tell you right away you'd probably kill me."

"You got that right, buster," Jeannie muttered.

"I just found out a month ago. Or over a month ago. She's... she's really smart. Smarter than you, probably."

That confused Jeannie. It would have been a poor taste insult, but it didn't seem like a dig.

"She's here, now, working with me." Meredith smiled absently. "It's kind of funny, because you had a kid in grad school, and now so do I, although she's actually in grad school. But you might not find that entertaining. She's the one who organized that birthday thing. Rory Gilmore."

" _What?_ " Jeannie asked incredulously, but Mer just kept going.

"This is a funny story, actually," Meredith said, making it sound like anything but. "Remember when I was sixteen and I went to Hartford, Connecticut, for that exchange program?"

"No," Jeannie breathed, horrified suspicions dawning.

"I met this girl down there, and it, um, turns out that she got pregnant."

"Meredith!" Jeannie exclaimed.

His face a mix of embarrassment and defiance, Meredith went on. "I didn't know until recently, when Rory got to Atlantis. But she's here, and she's really smart." He coughed. "So that's the apology. About the kid thing."

Jeannie sank back against the cushions, completely blown away. This couldn't be some kind of prank, could it? She couldn't see the military releasing this video to her if Meredith had gone crazy. But a daughter?

The video fuzzed for a moment, then the camera came back into focus showing Meredith walking down a hallway. "I knew if I wrote you an email, you wouldn't believe me--"

"Really?" Jeannie bit out.

"--so I'm going to show you. It's weird, how much Rory looks like Mom. Back when we were young. Before the cancer thing." He turned into a room where raised voices could be heard in the background. "She's always in the labs, working on important science, you'll see, it's..." His face fell as he looked over the camera. "Seriously?"

From the background came a small cheer. "Ha! I totally sunk your battleship, Herrera!" said a young woman's voice.

"You're cheating!" said a man.

"Am not."

"Then you can see what I'm doing!"

"Just great," Meredith muttered. He cleared his throat. "Rory?"

"Hold on!" After a moment, a soldier slipped past Meredith, muttering to himself, then the female voice came again, much closer to the microphone. "Yes?"

The camera swung and settled on a flat surface. Meredith backed away to reveal a young woman dressed in the dark grey of the Atlantis science teams. Jeannie's stomach dropped. The blue eyes, the narrow nose... the girl looked so much like Meredith it was disturbing.

This was his grown-up _daughter_?

In the meantime, the girl had spotted the camera. "What are you doing?" she asked Meredith. "Is this some kind of set-up for 'Rory Gilmore, this is your life'?"

"I'm making a video message for Jeannie," Mer said as he attempted to straighten his jacket.

The girl glared at Mer. "Why are you doing that?" she demanded. Her hand flew up to her hair. "You're supposed to tell people when you're filming them!"

"We can cut this part out in editing--"

"No, seriously, I think there's a law!" Rory ran a hand over her hair as she faced the camera, colour in her cheeks. She smiled hesitantly, and Jeannie's heart sank even lower. There was just a little bit of Meredith in that smile, a happiness she'd seldom seen in her brother, and it made her heart ache.

"So say hi," Rodney said after a moment.

"I'm working up to it," Rory hissed, before addressing herself to the camera. "Hello, Mrs. Miller."

"You can call her Jeannie," Meredith interrupted.

Rory whipped around to give him a look. "Are we talking to your new relations, or are we talking to mine?" When Mer opened his mouth to reply, Rory turned back to the camera. "Sorry, Mrs. Miller, or, um, Jeannie. I hope you don't mind if I call you Jeannie."

"You could call her Jean if you're being sticky about it," Meredith suggested.

Rory frowned at him. "I'm all about people not being called by their full first names."

"What are you talking about?"

Rory pointed at herself. "Hello? Lorelai Leigh Gilmore here."

"Oh." Meredith squirmed. "I guess we're all like that."

Rory stared at him, camera momentarily forgotten. "Okay, now what are _you_ talking about?"

Meredith let out a long-suffering sigh, and Jeannie found herself muttering _say it_ under her breath. "My... well, Rodney is my middle name."

"What's your first name?"

Meredith looked at the camera and mouthed, _This is your fault_. "It might be Meredith."

A wide smile broke out across Rory's face. "Is that why John suggested I call you Meredith?"

"He did _what_?" Meredith exclaimed, going red. "Why would he do something like that?"

Still grinning, Rory faced the camera once again. "Jeannie, thank you very much for sending that present for Rodney, he was really very touched." Meredith tried to muscle his way back in front of the camera, but Rory held him off. "I'm making a video for my aunt," she said. "Stop it."

"It was my idea!"

"And a brilliant one at that, now stop it."

As Meredith paused to sort that one, Rory grabbed the camera and carried it over to the desk, the background bouncing as she went. After a few moments the camera settled and Rory seated herself. Meredith was still visible in the background, throwing his hands into the air.

"So you don't know about me," Rory said. "My name is Rory, obviously. I grew up in a place called Stars Hollow in Connecticut, and I graduated from Yale University with an undergraduate degree in journalism."

"Journalism?" Jeannie repeated. Not that there was anything wrong with J-school, but even Caleb and the other English students had little time for the kids who went through journalism school at university.

"And I started working on physics in my spare time--"

Meredith popped into frame. "She's been working on math for less than a year and already she's smarter than you--" Rory walloped him on the arm. "Ow!"

"Stop being rude!"

"It's not rude, it's true--"

"It's not true and it's rude and you shouldn't be rude to someone who can't talk back to you."

Rubbing his arm, Meredith sulked his way out of the shot.

Rory resumed her story. "It's been very interesting working here, as I'm sure you know." She ducked her head, almost shyly. "I really enjoyed reading your preliminary paper on the neutrino cross-flow, the one we got last month, the idea about the effect of beta decay on the gravitational effects. I'm wondering, though, if you had thought about wrapping that into the concept of vacuum energy..."

The girl continued along purely scientific lines for several minutes.

When she wound down, Jeannie was having a hard time keeping up with her own thoughts. Half the things Rory mentioned had never even _occurred_ to Jeannie. And this kid had come up with them after working on physics for less than a year?

Meredith drifted back into the shot. "I told you she was good," he said, smugness exuding from every pore.

"You have to admit the background was there in Jeannie's work, though," Rory said.

Meredith rolled his eyes. "Yes, the background was there, however--"

Rory leaned against Rodney and squeezed his arm, which caused him to stutter into silence. "If we're not careful, the McKays might take over the world," Rory teased.

Meredith lifted his chin, considering. "A scientific dynasty, I'd never thought of that."

Rory laughed. It made her look years younger, and in that very moment, Jeannie saw so much of her mother in the girl's face. "Don't tell John, he won't let you near the control chair for weeks." She looked at the camera again, drawing Jeannie into the family picture across the galaxies. "I look forward to meeting you soon, Mrs. Miller."

Meredith sighed. "Goodbye, Jeannie."

As he reached for the camera, Rory asked, "Is the military going to let any of that through?"

"Maybe, she's got a higher security clearance than you did when you came through the Gate--" and the screen went dark.

Jeannie could only stare at the blank screen. The scientific ideas the girl had so casually thrown out were rushing around Jeannie's head, twisting and whirling with so much _possibility_ , but pushing that away for the time being was the fact of Rory herself.

The couch dipped as someone sat down. Jeannie looked up to see Caleb, his forehead furrowed in a frown. "Is everything okay?" he asked quietly.

Really, what could Jeannie say? "My brother has a daughter," was the best way to start.

The surprise on Caleb's face was almost comical. "Really? Who's the mother?"

"Someone he met in high school." Jeannie took a deep breath to stave off the hysteria rising in her head. "She's twenty-five."

"Your brother got a twenty-five-year-old pregnant?"

"No." Jeannie pressed her hands to her face. "His daughter is twenty-five. He got her mother pregnant in high school."

Caleb stared.

"And now she's working with Meredith." A giggle slipped through Jeannie's resolve. "God, she's even smarter than he is."

"Honey..."

The giggling continued. "After all the crap we went through when I left school, and he had a kid in high school?"

"Mommy?" Madison trailed into the living room, climbing onto Jeannie's lap. "What's funny?"

Jeannie managed to calm herself. Madison didn't need to hear the confusion in her voice right then. "I just heard from your Uncle Meredith," she said, pulling Maddie into a hug. "He says thank you very much for your birthday card."

"Good!" Madison kissed her mother on the cheek, then squirmed off the couch and took off for the stairs.

Caleb watched Jeannie warily. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Jeannie said, burying her face in her hands. "Can you give me a few minutes?"

"Sure. I'll go help Madison brush her teeth." Caleb pressed a kiss against Jeannie's hair. "Come up when you're ready."

When Caleb had vanished upstairs, Jeannie randomly opened the video and paused the screen on Rory's face. Carefully setting the laptop aside, Jeannie went to the cabinet by the TV and pulled a photo album from its dusty box. After returning to the couch, she opened the album to a worn photograph of her mother, holding baby Jeannie and trying to corral a recalcitrant Meredith. The woman's expression was bemused and happy.

Jeannie set the photo album beside her computer and looked between her dead mother and her new niece. The side-by-side comparison was disquieting.

"Oh, Meredith, what have you done?" Jeannie murmured.

* * *

_**To** : 'Dr. Rodney McKay' [R.Mckay@cheyenne.af.mil]_   
_**From** : Jeannie Miller [J.Miller@cheyenne.af.mil]_   
_**Subject** : Re: Video message_

_**Body** :_

_There are no words for how much I'm going to kill you._

_Maybe I can supplement this with the words HYPOCRITE or IDIOT or my personal favourite, "what the hell were you doing having unprotected sex with some strange American teenager in the 80s??"_

_For someone who says he's smart, you can be such a DUNCE._

_In summation: OH MY GOD._

_... I feel better now._

_Okay, Mer, what really happened? Rory's not some kind of genetic experiment or clone or alternate!universe!daughter, is she? I'm not sure if that would be more or less disconcerting. Why didn't her mother ever tell you about her?_

_I've been looking at old pictures of Mom and you're right about that similarity. What does Rory's mother look like?_

_I googled her writing, and it's pretty interesting. She was editor of the Yale school newspaper for a while, and her editorials aren't quite as dire as a lot of the school newspapers up here. She also did press reporting on the Obama campaign for a while, I found some of her stuff that was picked up by AP. Pretty cool._

_Of course, when I went to see if she's published anything, I found only one paper out of U.Colorado. How long has she been in grad school? Can I get the stuff she's been working on with you so we can, I don't know, actually *collaborate*???_

_I'm tempted to not send you the paper I've been working on in principle, but you'll only mope. Happy belated birthday, big brother._

_-J_

_PS: Seriously, this isn't some kind of joke, right?_

_**Attachment** : in.dem.cflowDraft4.doc_

Rodney stared glumly at his computer. His sister had found out more about Rory in ten minutes on Google than Rodney had thought to ask the girl herself in over a month. This was so totally unfair.

Rodney glanced over Jeannie's paper with little enthusiasm. She was, as usual, brilliant beyond belief, and he saw that she had worked some of Rory's ideas into the equations. It wasn't fair that Rodney was being shown up by every single female relation he had. Except five-year-old Madison, which was a bit of a relief because if that happened, Rodney might consider going to bed and never getting up.

The lab door rolled open and in bounced Rodney's daughter, hair done up in braided pigtails and coffee cup in hand. She looked young and vibrant and terribly happy. Rodney just glared.

"Hey there," Rory bubbled, coming to a standstill across the desk from Rodney. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Because you look like someone put orange juice in your coffee."

"I'm busy."

Rory was not deterred. "I got an email from your sister today," she said, unable to keep from smiling. "She's really nice."

Rodney had to admit that yes, Jeannie could be a pleasant person at times.

"And have you read her paper?" Rory gushed, going over to her desk to plug in her computer. "She actually thought some of my ideas were useful for the equations!"

"That's because you're not a complete moron," Rodney said grumpily, reaching into his desk for a granola bar. That might lighten his mood.

Rory raised her eyebrow in his general direction. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in days. Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome." Rodney tore open the wrapper on the granola bar and took a bite, wishing he had some coffee, when Rory's words finally percolated into his stream of consciousness. He stopped chewing. "Did you just call me 'Dad'?"

"Yes," Rory said after a moment. "I mean, since you are. If that's okay."

Email from Jeannie temporarily forgotten, Rodney sat stock still as he tried to figure out what that pressing sensation in his chest might be. Was he having an emotional reaction? Was it a heart attack?

"You don't have to call me that," Rodney said, his heartbeat fluttering in his throat. It was either an emotional reaction or a panic attack, and either way Rodney wished it would go away. "I mean, you can if you want but you don't have to. Rodney works. Or Dr. McKay, but that's probably only going to be okay during lab meetings because sometimes I don't listen to everything other people say when I'm thinking about important problems."

Rory smiled at Rodney, happy and open, and something of the panic in Rodney's chest eased. She just hit a key on her computer to bring up Jeannie's paper onto the big lab screen. "So," she began, settling into her straightforward academic mode. "What do you think about the possibility of that equation working in real life situations?"

"It might work," Rodney said. "For very large values of 'if'."

Rory stared at him. "Did you just make a joke?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You did! You cracked a joke! I knew Canadians weren't completely humorless after all."

"Oh, ha ha."

"I'm adorable. Now, Dr. McKay, back to the math."

"Yes, ma'am," Rodney said, unable to even muster any sarcasm. Something about this girl just threw off all his carefully honed snarking skills. He made a mental note to redouble his efforts in future, and went back to work.


	19. I Doubt Your Commitment To Sparkle Motion

"It wasn't that bad," John said, trying to keep a polite expression on his face.

"I was horrible," Rory corrected him, embarrassment at a poor job churning in her stomach, along with something a little _else_ she didn't want to identify. "I couldn't even go in a straight line."

"At least you didn't fly into anything," John pointed out. He smiled, sending Rory's stomach into free-fall. "And you kept the Jumper on a solid vertical axis. That dimension is the hardest for people who haven't flown before. That was well done."

Rory's cheeks reddened at the praise. Normally she wanted to perform well for her instructors. But with John Sheppard, it was _okay_ she hadn't been perfect right out of the gate. There was no reason that she should feel so comfortable in this man's presence, but it didn't seem to matter that her first flying lesson had really sucked.

This wasn't like her, and it was confusing.

"Next time, you'll know to keep the direct path in mind as well," John explained, his hand stretching out in a straight line. "Just aim for that horizon."

But Rory was not to be deterred. "What about when you're in space and there isn't any horizon to aim for?"

John rolled his eyes. "Pick the stars in the corner of the view screen and keep them there. Any other questions?"

Rory stopped, waiting until John swung around to face her. "Am I completely hopeless?"

"No," John replied immediately. "Compared with the others with the ATA gene, your first flying lesson was solidly in the middle of the pack."

That was not exactly what Rory hoped to hear. 

"Come on, haven't you ever come across something you didn't get right away?"

"Miss Patty's jazz dance class," Rory said without thinking. "When I was eight." The corner of John's mouth twitched as he tried to hide his smile. "Seriously. There's video evidence. I had two left feet. I ran into things. And people. Occasionally pushing people into things."

"Well, consider your first flying lesson a step up from that," John said as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You didn't hit anything. And your landing on the beach was perfect."

"It took almost a minute."

John considered. "Better slower than a Sunday drive than bashing the drive pods into the sand?" 

Rory sighed. "Thank you very much for trying to spare my feelings, Colonel, but I know how I did."

John shifted his pack up to his shoulder. "Read up a little more on the control setup before your next time, and you'll be fine. You were just nervous. Oh, and remember to ease up your hold on the controls. The Jumper gets confused by such a tight grip on the stick."

Rory caught herself before she smiled. It was completely unfair how the man could unintentionally make anything sound dirty... although some of that might have a lot to do with Rory's confused hormones after spending a couple of hours in an enclosed Puddlejumper with a man who was seriously too hot to be legal. _But I will not think such things about my father's best friend,_ she told herself sternly.

"So I'll see you around," John said, gently touching her arm before he started down the hall. "Good work today, Gilmore!"

Rory stood still, concentrating on not collapsing into a puddle in the hallway. He'd complimented her on her flying and he'd smiled at her. John Sheppard had _smiled._ At her.

She shook her head, wishing the churning in her stomach would stop. She needed to get over this stupid crush. So what if John Sheppard had smiled at her? He smiled at everyone. The man was a veritable smiling machine. 

He wouldn't, couldn't ever see her as anything other than his best friend's daughter. 

Rory had to stop being so _stupid._

Someone coughed, startling Rory out of her thoughts. "Oh. Hi, Carlos."

Staff Sergeant Carlos Herrera clomped down the hall in a pitter-patter of steel-toed combat boots. "How'd it go?"

"The flying lesson? Fine," Rory said, her arm tingling where John had touched her. _Pull yourself together!_ she chastised herself. 

"Yeah. The flying lesson," Carlos said, giving her a sideways glance. "Sure."

Rory frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Carlos glanced up and down the hall in an exaggerated manner. "What was Colonel Sheppard carrying when he headed off?"

"His pack," Rory said slowly.

"And what was in his pack?"

"A life signs detector and canteen and the wrappers from a couple of sandwiches he brought for us to have at lunch. Why?"

"Ah," Carlos said, satisfaction exuding from that one word. "I see."

"What do you see?"

Carlos winked. "That wasn't a flying lesson."

Honestly, it was like playing mad libs with Lorelai on a bad day. "What else could it have been?"

Carlos sighed. "That, my dear Doctor-in-training Gilmore, was a date."

Rory almost fell over. " _What_?" Her heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest. "It was not a date!"

"Whatever," Carlos said. "Tell me, where exactly did the two of you have those sandwiches?"

"On the beach after we landed," Rory said, head spinning. "John wanted to go over some of the flight data with me before we came back."

Carlos' face creased into an evil grin. "You had a picnic on the beach with the man who just _happened_ to offer you flying lessons in his favorite Jumper, and you say it's not a date?"

"It wasn't like that!" Rory protested, panic washing over her. "He said that because it was lunchtime, we should have something to tide us over while we were out flying around so neither of us passed out on the way back."

"I'm just saying," Carlos said. "Because when Lt. Huynh got a flying lesson from the Colonel last year, it certainly didn't involve picnics on sandy romantic beaches on the mainland."

"Oh god," Rory breathed, her face heating up. 

"Did he tell you stories about his adventures in Pegasus?" Carlos went on, taking far too much enjoyment in Rory's discomfort. "With himself as the reluctant hero who swoops in at the last moment and saves the day?"

Rory covered her face with her hands.

"So," Carlos concluded cheerily. "A date."

"This is a disaster!" Rory exclaimed quietly, glancing around to make sure there was no one else in earshot. 

"Don't worry about it," said Carlos dismissively. "It's not like it's against the regs or anything."

"That is not what I mean!" Rory desperately wished there was some sort of button she could push to make the last few minutes of her life rewind. "He's my father's friend, that would be wrong!"

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "He's, what, fifteen years older than you? So what?"

Rory rounded on Carlos. "You need to stop helping!"

"And have you seen him?" Carlos asked. "The man's gorgeous. I've heard a rumor he can disarm a nuclear bomb at thirty paces with that smile."

Rory came close to stamping her foot on the ground. "I'm not _blind_ , but it doesn't matter!" Something from Carlos' statement twigged in her mind. "Wait, did you just call your commanding officer 'gorgeous'?"

A look of panic crossed Carlos' face. "From a purely technical perspective," he said, withdrawing into sudden military aloofness.

"Don't be an idiot, I don't care about that," Rory said. She slumped against the wall. "What am I going to do?"

Carlos rested his shoulder on the wall next to Rory. "You're not going down that road, huh?"

Rory took a deep breath. As much as she would have liked to entertain the fancy that John Sheppard had intended the flying lesson to be something more, she couldn't afford it. He was Rodney's best friend and the military commander of Atlantis under Colonel Carter, and he was almost certainly _not_ interested in her. It had to be a misunderstanding. 

"Not going down that road," she said after a minute, her heart only slightly bruised. 

"Because of your dad?" Carlos guessed.

"Not only because of Rodney." Rory pushed a strand of hair off her face, wondering when her life had become such a cosmic mess. "I came to Atlantis to work on the ZPMs. I can't let whatever the hell this was mess up my chances at graduating Stargate University in a couple of years."

Carlos grasped her shoulder in a brotherly manner. "Career comes first, I get that."

Rory glanced up at him. "Although a date might have been nice. It's been one hell of a long time."

Carlos snorted. "Tell me about it."

Rory lowered her voice. "So why did you join the Marines if you knew you wouldn't be able to, um, tell?"

It took Carlos so long to answer that Rory wondered if she'd stepped over the line. "My dad was in the Corps. Some of my friends never knew their fathers, and I watched them grow up, and I watched my dad being totally dedicated to us and the job, and I just wanted to be like that."

Rory nudged his side with her elbow. "And now you're a Staff Sergeant in the lost city of Atlantis."

The smile that spread across his face was a marvel to behold. "That I am." He gallantly offered his arm to Rory. "Doctor-to-be, may I escort you to the mess hall for a cup of coffee?"

Rory took the proffered arm with grave courtesy. "Of course, Staff Sergeant. I would be honored."

They made it about five steps down the hall before Carlos asked, "So, did Sheppard tell you the story how he saved the princess of a jungle tribe and they made him their Chief?"

"Oh _god_!"

* * *

In the meantime, John sauntered down the hall, feeling more chipper than he had in a long time. He'd had a wonderful afternoon with Rory, outside the minor adrenaline rushes when it seemed like she might crash the Jumper headfirst into the ocean. Most importantly, Rory was a wonderful audience for all of John's _Rodney McKay_ stories. 

And she was a fast learner. In a few more lessons, she'd be able to fly as well as Rodney, if not better. 

John was also proud that he'd managed to restrain himself from invading her personal space, no matter how much he wanted to correct her hold on the controls. He was fully aware of how pathetic that small restraint was, but he'd behaved like a perfect gentleman, not allowing his imagination to _go there_ , even when Rory's grip had slipped hard to the base of the stick.

 _But I'm not thinking about that,_ John told himself, his treacherous mind unable to dampen his mood. It had been a relaxing afternoon with a fascinating, and fascinated, audience, and nothing had blown up or tried to kill them. That signaled a win in John Sheppard's book. 

Ronon came out of nowhere, slowing down to match John's pace. "You're back."

"Indeed we are," John said with a lazy grin. "The skies were totally clear, it was a great day to go flying."

"Uh huh." Ronon remained unimpressed. "How was your date?"

John stopped and whirled at the same time, almost pitching himself to the floor. "My _what_?"

"Your date," Ronon repeated. "With Rory."

John ran his hand through his hair, at a complete loss for words. What was Ronon _thinking_? "It wasn't a date!" he protested. "It was a flying lesson!"

Ronon blinked. "There was food, right?"

"Yes, but--"

"You took her somewhere nice where no one would bother you."

"That's not the point--"

"It was the one time this week when you knew McKay couldn't go along."

The fluttering in John's stomach threatened to heave out of control. "It was the only time this week Rory was free--"

"She's your type, isn't she?"

This last comment pulled John up short. _"What?"_ "Your type," Ronon repeated. "Dark hair, light eyes, skinny, smarter than you."

John stared at him. "I don't have a type," he stammered.

Ronon crossed his arms over his chest. He looked wholly unconvinced. "Nancy?"

"That's different--"

"Chaya? Teer?"

"You have no idea--"

"Elizabeth?"

John froze, adrenaline surging through his veins at the mention of Elizabeth. 

Ronon went on, which was strange in itself because Ronon wasn't a big talker, unless he happened to be ripping John's life apart. "Doesn't bother me. Just don't let McKay find out." With that, he turned and headed back down the hall, taking the tattered remains of John's good day with him.

It hadn't been a _date_ , John told himself fiercely. It had just been a nice day where two adults had happened to have a picnic and laughed over some funny stories on a sandy tropical beach while John had spent an inordinate amount of energy preventing himself from imagining what Rory might look like if she let her hair down over her shoulders--

 _Fuck_.

John refused to let himself hyperventilate. Ronon might have had the wrong idea, but that didn't mean Rory would. John needed to find someone who would see things from Rory's point of view, who would reassure him that things were fine.

Like Teyla. John needed to find Teyla. Teyla would make everything better. Teyla always made everything better. 

However, the woman who answered John's knock did not look as if she could improve anyone's day. Torren's red-faced screaming only served to emphasize Teyla's exhaustion as she stared up at John. "What?" she demanded.

"What's wrong?" John asked, confused and a little alarmed. "You look horrible."

Teyla shifted Torren to her other arm, but the baby's crying did not abate. "He is chewing free a tooth," Teyla said. John could hear the frustration in her voice. "He has not slept for longer than twenty minutes in a day."

"Maybe he's sick? Have you taken him to see Keller?" John asked. Teyla almost wilted at the suggestion. "Or I could do it." Something prompted John to keep speaking, anything to get that frustration out of Teyla's voice. "Why don't you give him to me and get some sleep? If there's something wrong I can get Keller to page you, and if not I can keep him occupied while you sleep."

The gratitude on Teyla's face almost erased John's trepidation for what he had suggested. "Could you?"

Before John could reply or think to take back his offer, Teyla shoved Torren into John's arms, quickly followed by the babysitter's bag. "Is there anything you want me to tell Keller?" John asked as Teyla herded him towards the door.

"No, just that Torren will not sleep." Teyla shooed them into the hallway. "Could you possibly keep him for an hour? Or maybe two?"

She was already fading. John tightened his grip on the miserable baby. He was a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Air Force. He could handle one infant for a few hours. "Why don't you sleep it out?" he suggested. "We'll keep an eye on this little guy."

The fervor of Teyla's gratitude startled John, but then the door closed and John was left with a loud, unhappy baby. 

John jiggled the baby, but that only increased Torren's volume. His skin was flushed, with various fluids leaking from his mouth, nose and eyes. 

Ew.

"Come on," John said, holding Torren securely around the middle and trying to ignore the bodily fluids getting on his uniform. "We'll get Doc Keller to check you out and if you're sick, we'll call your mommy."

Torren's only response was to gnaw on his fist.

The doctor was in, and she looked up startled when John stopped in front of her desk and held out the baby at arm's length. "Help," John said.

"What's wrong?" Jennifer asked, rising with alacrity. She motioned him to bring Torren over to an exam table. "Where's Teyla?"

"Trying to get some sleep," John said, cradling Torren's head as he laid the boy down. "She said Torren hasn't slept more than twenty minutes at a stretch for over a day."

"Any signs of fever?" Keller took Torren's temperature with the little ear-thing John could never name. This only served to make the baby crankier. "Is he vomiting?"

"Teyla said that he just won't sleep," John said, worry clawing at his stomach. Did babies do this? Scream while they were teething? The nanny had always taken care of John's little brother Dave when Dave was a baby, keeping him out of sight of the family. "Is he going to be okay?"

Keller felt the boy's tummy, then ran a gloved finger inside his mouth to feel his gums. "There you are," she murmured, wincing as Torren chomped down. She managed to remove her finger from his mouth without losing a digit. "The tooth is almost out. The first one is always the hardest."

"It's just teething?" John asked, not certain he believed her. 

"Well, he's not running a temperature, and there is no sign of illness," Keller said. "His belly feels fine. He should work through this."

John blinked. "But the crying and the snot and the insomnia?"

Keller shrugged. "If he's awake for another hour, bring him back for observation and I'll call Teyla, but I think he'll manage to sleep soon." She gathered the baby up and deposited him into John's arms. "As for the teething, try a popsicle."

"A what?"

"Popsicle," Keller repeated. "The mess has popsicles in the freezer. Let Torren chew on it for a while. The cold should help numb the gums." She patted Torren's cheek. "And you should really blow his nose."

Thus summarily dismissed, John found himself in the hallway once again with a cranky, sticky baby. 

"For crying out loud," John muttered. He fished the life signs detector out of his pocket. The thing was indestructible and waterproof, and what Teyla didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "Here, gnaw on this for a while."

Torren stuck the rounded corner of the device in his mouth and proceeded to drool all over it, chewing on the plastic with all his might.

John wanted to cry. Why was he the one stuck holding the baby? He wasn't any good with kids, especially crying ones who refused to sleep. He quickly swung through the mess hall to grab the prescribed popsicle and a handful of napkins. Rather than disturb everyone, he headed to a nearby balcony before letting Torren have at the popsicle. 

The baby wasn't sure what to make of the cold sweet object. He tried to grab it, but then seemed content to let John hold the popsicle as he gummed at it. His loud vocal complaints soon gave way to soft baby mumbles.

At least he stopped crying, John thought in relief. It probably wasn't all that healthy for a baby to ingest that much pure sugar, but once in a while couldn't hurt.

Most amazingly of all, after about ten minutes, Torren began to nod off. Five minutes after that, he was asleep.

 _Thank god,_ John thought, putting the melting popsicle aside and trying to wipe Torren's face clean without getting more goo on his uniform.

A low chuckle drew John's attention. "You look like you've gone ten rounds and lost," Sam Carter said softly, making her way across the balcony.

John pointed at Torren with his free hand. "The kid's a natural," he whispered. "Something I can do for you?"

"Nothing urgent," Sam said, sitting beside John on the balcony. "I just got off the line with the SGC. The IOA wants to send the Daedalus back to Pegasus on a regular basis."

John frowned, shifting Torren higher up on his chest. "Is that a good idea?"

"My thoughts exactly." Sam rested her head on the pillar behind her, blonde hair slipping out of her ponytail. "McKay says his team has found all the drones, but..."

"But he said that once before," John finished for her. His bruises from the last battle with the drones had faded, but his memory supplied a vivid replay of the sharp metal spikes slicing into his skin, the electricity shooting through him, stopping his heart. Lorne and Stackhouse had hauled his dead body off the metal platform and performed CPR on him, starting his heart again. 

John's hands were shaking. Carefully, he covered Torren's back with his palm, wondering distantly how any human being could be so small and so perfect. The baby sighed in his sleep.

Sam had seen John's momentary lapse, how could she not? But she didn't say anything and for that, John would gladly follow her anywhere. "We have to start somewhere," she said. "Bringing the Daedalus out regularly would be a controlled way to keep a military presence in the galaxy. With Michael out there, we need all the help we can get."

"Yeah," John said, breathing through the flashback with a smile for his commanding officer. _See, I'm fine._ "Sounds good to me."

Sam pulled out her computer. John managed to hold in his sigh. Of course. Sam Carter was never far away from work. "If you have a few minutes, I'd like to discuss the current military structure. If we start rotating more personnel Earth-side, I'd like to have a few alternative staffing plans."

What could John say? "I'm all yours," he said with a smile. Their conversation on staffing more resembled a game of Risk than real work. Torren spent the entire time drooling on John's shirt.

* * *

John wandered the halls of Atlantis with a wakeful Torren, his left foot all pins-and-needles from sitting on the balcony for over an hour. He had forgotten how single-minded Sam could be in a one-on-one conversation on military tactics.

"Of course, she's the boss. All she has to do is tell us to do stuff, and it gets done," John confided in Torren. The boy blinked up at John with sleepy eyes as he chewed on the edge of the life signs detector. "It must be nice to be in charge."

Torren yawned.

"Hopefully your mom is getting some sleep," John said, heading towards the stairs. "You're not helping her with this no sleeping, buster. A single mom's life needs all the breaks it can get."

Something nudged at the back of John's mind, the reminder that now that the drones were gone they should start looking for the Athosians again, but he pushed the idea away. Lorne and Carter were dealing with that while John focused on returning the city to full military readiness. 

Yeah. That was it.

John stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at Torren. The baby had Teyla's dark eyes and her nose and chin, but his lighter skin and dark curls belonged to his father, a man John had only met a few times and didn't even like that much.

A man who might never know his son.

John brushed the hair back from Torren's forehead. The boy seemed oblivious, chewing on the life signs detector and gazing around like Atlantis was the most fascinating thing in the universe. "You really do have the best mom," John said quietly. He knew Torren wouldn't understand a word he said, but it didn't matter. "We're going to find your father. I promise."

Torren's dark gaze slid off the walls and fixed itself on John's face. He laughed and reached out with tiny baby fingers for John's chin. 

John pushed away the tangled emotions in his head. His life always went to hell when emotion was involved. He was so much better at dealing with facts. Like Teyla needed some sleep, and Torren would just keep on teething and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it but wait. 

And that John had inadvertently taken Rodney McKay's daughter on a date that very afternoon.

John shifted Torren up higher on his shoulder, to give the boy a better viewpoint. "While we're speaking man to man here, what am I going to do, huh?" he asked. "Got any advice for an old man?"

Torren chortled at being up high, dropping the life signs detector. John caught that with his spare hand before it bounced down the stairs. 

"Throwing things only works when you're cute enough to get out of anything." John pocketed the life signs detector. "Maybe she didn't see it as a date."

Torren blew a raspberry.

"You're right." Even if John didn't know much about women, he was pretty sure that if _Ronon_ had thought it was a date, then Rory would too. "Maybe if I don't bring it up again, she'll forget it happened?"

Unless she thinks you're a pervert for taking her on the Jumper trip, John's mind suggested. Because if any of _his_ father's friends had taken him on a flying trip and brought sandwiches, John might have jumped out of the plane mid-trip. 

Even as he shuddered at that mental image, John immediately found a loophole in the comparison. His father had been thirty when John was born, and all the man's friends had been lawyers and businessmen, whom John found repellent on principle. Rory was only fifteen years his junior and she didn't seem all that put off by military men. 

"And I did save her life the first time I saw her," John told Torren. "If I hadn't grabbed her arm before she fell into the road, she'd be dead."

One of the marvels of genetics was that Torren had inherited Teyla's ability to label John a _moron_ with a level gaze and a twitch of the mouth. Or maybe that was gas. 

"And it's not like it's against the rules," John said before he realized that he was trying to justify his own lechery. "Except that Rodney would probably kill me."

Because that was the crux of it. Even if John was enough of a dirty old man to go after Rory, and even if Rory would go for a guy like him, Rodney would murder John. Their friendship had strained almost to breaking because John hadn't told Rodney about Rory's suspect paternity for all those years. If John took one step towards Rory like _that_ , Rodney would most likely see it as a betrayal of his trust.

"Even if it wasn't," John mused. Torren stuck his fingers in his mouth, making little sucking noises. "What am I going to do?"

The glare Torren shot him was answer enough.

"One baby bottle coming up," John said. "As soon as I can find a place to put you down."

Unfortunately, the only place he could find with a stable surface in the immediate vicinity was Rodney's lab.

"Hey, McKay, can I borrow your couch for a little while?" John asked, edging into the room. 

Rodney didn't take his hands off the keyboard. "Just don't bug me," he muttered.

John shrugged. He'd had enough practice in feeding Torren that he didn't need to pester McKay. The mechanics of getting the bottle ready and feeding Torren didn't make much noise. Nor did burping the baby after he was done, nor the inevitable changing of the diaper. Seeing McKay still busy with work, John pulled up a movie on a disused computer as he waited for Torren to fall asleep again. 

McKay typed, Torren's eyes slowly blinked closed, and by the time the movie ended, John had talked himself off the dangerous precipice of considering his afternoon with Rory Gilmore as a date. There were a million reasons why it was a bad idea, and only one reason it might have been okay.

And _liking_ a girl with dark hair and light eyes and a beautiful smile had never been enough to destroy his life in the past. Now was not the time to start.

"And that's the way it is," John murmured to the sleeping Torren. 

Soothed by the clatter of McKay's feverish typing and the scientists ranting deeper in the room, John Sheppard fell asleep.

* * *

Teyla found her son exactly where she had expected - in Rodney McKay's lab. What she had not expected was the sight that met her eyes. John Sheppard lay sprawled on the couch, Torren sleeping on his chest. One of John's hands rested on Torren's back, holding the baby safe.

Teyla's mouth twisted up in a smile. While she didn't often think of John Sheppard as _cute_ , she did wish she had a way of preserving this memory.

Rodney noticed her enter the room. "Hi," he said in what for him was a quiet voice. "They've been there for hours. I was tempted to make them leave, but the adorable factor made the scientists work harder. Plus they kept Jones from ranting at full volume."

"I am glad," Teyla said. She had felt guilty for shoving her cranky son on John earlier, but five uninterrupted hours of sleep had softened the edges of that emotion. "Your work goes well?"

"Finally." Rodney offered her his half-eaten granola bar, a peace offering. Teyla took a bite and passed it back. "I emailed you the pictures."

"The pictures of what?"

"Of that disgusting level of adorability," Rodney said, gesturing with the granola bar. "Simpson made me get photographic evidence."

"Thank you," Teyla said. She laid her hand on Rodney's arm in gratitude for a moment, then crossed the room to the couch. Taking care to kneel out of the Colonel's reach, she called out, "John?"

John's eyes opened instantly, hand tightening on Torren's back and his other arm going up in a protective posture. His eyes focused on Teyla, but still he blinked hard before he lowered his arm. "Hey," he said in a rough voice. He sat up, cradling Torren carefully. "You okay?"

"I am well," Teyla replied. She sat on the couch at John's side. "You?"

"Yeah." John rubbed his face with his free hand. "I saw Keller, she said Torren's fine."

"Good." Teyla touched her son's cheek. "Thank you for watching him this afternoon."

John shrugged, but Teyla saw the way his expression softened when he looked down at Torren, still fast asleep. Teyla hid her smile. John liked to think that he was mysterious and aloof, but she could always read his every emotion. "It was cool. We hung out, watched some movies, talked cars and football." John's gaze slid over to Rodney, who was pretending very hard that he was not listening to them. "McKay could probably be convinced to make Torren a little toy car to ride around, after we finish the wagon."

"John..."

"Black, with white racing stripes?"

Rodney abandoned his computer. "Do you think we could rig a suspension from those scraps of metal we found in the east pier basement?" he asked John.

"We don't need a suspension, just a simple steering mechanism. He'll have to Fred Flintstone it. Unless we make it a pedal car?" 

"John," Teyla interrupted sternly. "I feel it might be best that Torren start walking before I will consider letting him into any sort of vehicle."

John slumped back against the couch, dejected, but Rodney was not deterred. "He's already teething, so he'll be walking in what, three months? The wagon just needs one more coat of paint and it's ready to go. If I can get Valdeo to part with the gears from that MALP they're going to scrap, the car could be ready by summer."

Teyla gave up. She extracted her son from John's grasp and left the boys to their plans. As she passed through the doors, she heard John's voice rise in excitement. Teyla could not help but smile. It had been too long since John and Rodney had a scheme to keep them busy on their rare off-hours.

Torren squirmed against Teyla's chest, his dark eyes opening slowly. When he saw her, his face lit up into a beatific smile as if she was the centre of his entire universe.

Teyla's heart melted. This was her son, part of her very being, and he was growing healthy and happy and safe from the Wraith. She lifted him higher in her arms, kissing his cheek as he wrapped his chubby arms around her neck. "I hope you had a good sleep," she said. Athosians always spoke to their children as if they were full partners in the conversation, a trick that Teyla had seen John adopt. "Your presence today has done John a great deal of good."

Torren gave voice to a string of syllables, ending on a high note. Teyla recognized the sounds as he had made them before. She mimicked them back to him, and he laughed. 

"Thank you for taking care of John," Teyla said. "I admit I was in no shape to deal with him this afternoon."

For she had known what the man wanted as soon as she had answered the door. John had scheduled that afternoon to teach Rory Gilmore to fly a Puddlejumper. When she had seen him, he had been completely panicked. It was the same panic he displayed whenever someone expressed an interest in him off-world, or when he realized that he had an interest in someone. 

Remembering John's expression, Teyla sighed. "I do hope that he does what is right," she said to Torren. For she knew how highly John valued Rodney's friendship, and she suspected that for all Rodney could forgive John, a relationship with Rodney's daughter was not on the list.

She wondered what Rory's intentions were towards John, and might have gone in search of the girl right then, but Torren started to make hungry noises and Teyla's attention was distracted.

* * *

Rory found Rodney in the mess hall the next morning, hair flying and eyes wild as he ate with one hand, paging through a report with the other. "Good night?" she guessed.

Rodney never looked up. "Still busy," he snapped.

Rory ignored his tone as she joined him. "I had my first Jumper flying lesson yesterday."

"Hmm." Rodney tapped at the computer screen for a few minutes. "Hit anything?"

"No." 

"Almost hit anything?"

"She was a natural," John said, sliding into a chair beside Rodney. He winked at Rory. "She flew better than Lorne."

Rodney lifted his head long enough to glare at John. "She did not."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad," Rory said. She made the mistake of looking directly at John. His smile was infectious, a slow brilliant grin that knocked all intelligent conversation out of Rory's head. 

"She's good!" John protested. "Same as you on your first flight."

Rodney dropped his computer. "My first flight sucked!"

"It wasn't that bad," John mumbled, sinking down in his chair. 

"No, I specifically recall you saying that my first flight sucked."

"I didn't use that exact phrase," John said.

"And I quote, 'Elizabeth, his flying sucked.' End quote."

"I would never speak to Elizabeth like that!"

"Same sentiment!"

"McKay!"

"Gentlemen," Rory interrupted. They broke off their bickering. "Perhaps we can all agree that the flying lesson shows I should stick with the theoretical."

"Does not," John retorted. "Practice makes perfect."

"Or perhaps I should stick with my strengths?"

"If you never go back up, you'll never know if you can improve," John shot back. "We need all the pilots we can get."

"If you end up needing my skills as a pilot, we'll be in trouble."

"Or we may end up needing your skills as a pilot when we're in trouble." John's joking manner bled away, leaving a colder certainty that sent a sliver of fear down Rory's spine. True, she'd already saved the city once in her months here, and heard the stories of what dangers lurked in Atlantis, but she wasn't sure she was up to the sudden challenge in John's Sheppard's eyes. 

Rodney fell silent, looking between Rory and John with a curious expression on his face. 

The worst part was that John wasn't wrong. For Rory not to improve skills that might save people's lives would be worse than negligent. It would be cowardly. 

What would Vala do? Rory asked herself. The answer was so obvious that Rory wanted to kick herself. Vala would keep going back into the cockpit until she could fly a Jumper with wisecracking nonchalance. Rory could do no less.

Of course, Vala would also spend her time flirting with John Sheppard, but Rory had spent the previous night making a six-page list as to why she _would not go there._

Rory took a deep breath and met John's gaze. "Maybe Major Lorne might be able to schedule me for a few flying lessons, if he has time," she said. 

John held her eyes for a long moment. "Sure, we can put that on his to-do list," he finally said. "Or Sgt. Stackhouse. He's one of the best pilots we have."

"What about Henderson?" McKay interjected. 

John picked up his coffee cup with a jerky motion. "Henderson transferred back to Earth on the Daedalus. He's been gone for days."

Rodney stared. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You were at the going-away party!"

"Not for long!"

"And we talked about this before the Daedalus left!"

"You can't assume that I listen to everything you say--"

"Or anything I say."

"Who are we getting to replace him?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because the military engineers are partially under my jurisdiction!"

"And yet you didn't know he was going back to Earth?"

"Because you didn't tell me--"

John set his cup down hard. "Who's on first?"

Rodney stopped mid-rant. "What?"

"No, What's on second."

"I don't know what you're talking--"

"Third base," John and Rory said at the same time. Rory made the mistake of looking at John, and she couldn't hold back her giggle. 

Rodney shook his head. "Don't talk to me, I have work to do," he said in a huff, bending back over his computer. 

John's laughing grin only strengthened Rory's resolve. She would not think of John Sheppard as anything other than her father's friend and the expedition's military commander. No matter what Carlos thought, the Jumper lesson the previous day had _not_ been a date. 

It was for the best.

And if Rory tried very hard, she could ignore the hollow sensation in her chest that her decision caused.


	20. Pegasus Law of Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that when this was written in 2009, the US Military policy of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, was still active and in effect.

* * *

The exact moment when Staff Sergeant Carlos Herrera's day went from _bad_ to _shit-in-your-pants worse_ was when, in the middle of the sudden firefight that had separated the team, Major Anne Teldy took a bullet in the chest and hit the ground.

Carlos shifted his aim to the gap in the trees and fired on full automatic. Two bodies toppled out of the greenery, but it didn't make any fucking difference because the Major was _bleeding out_. All the cover they had was the broken DHD and the radios were out and he had no idea where the fuck Captain Andrews and Sgt. Mehra were. 

Then, to top off his day, he saw the team's lone civilian break cover to drag Major Teldy behind the DHD. "Motherfucking hell, Gilmore!" Carlos shouted, going on one knee to take out the lone gunman stupid enough to show himself through the trees. "When I tell you to take cover, you take the fucking cover!"

Rory pulled the Major tight behind the DHD. "Shut up!" Rory screeched, pressing hard on the Major's chest. The Major's eyes fluttered for a moment before the woman jerked, coming halfway to consciousness. She let out a choking cough as Rory pressed harder on the wound, blood welling up between her fingers.

"Major, you've been shot," Carlos said. The words were so fucking obvious, but his voice gave the panicking Major something to focus on. "I think I got your attackers but am unable to ascertain the number of other combatants in the woods, ma'am!"

Blood dribbled out of Major Teldy's mouth as Rory shoved a pressure bandage over the gunshot wound. "Fix the DHD and dial Atlantis," the woman coughed out through the pain. It took Carlos a moment to realize she was speaking to Rory, not him. "Now..." The words dissolved into a wheeze as the Major passed out again.

Rory rolled the other woman onto her side in the recovery position, which the part of Carlos' brain not occupied with scanning the woods for murderous Durrae knew would amplify any spinal damage, but if the Major drowned in her own blood from a punctured lung it'd be a bit too late to worry about paralysis. 

"You heard her, Gilmore!" Carlos peered around the edge of the DHD. No movement on the edge of the clearing. "Fix it and get us home!"

"I don't-- I can't--" Rory babbled, hysteria riding the edge of her words, and Carlos did not have the fucking _time_ for this. 

He grabbed Rory's arm and gave her a hard shake. "You're the only genius we have!" he pointed out. "I know you've read the hell out of every mission report and know how the inside of a DHD is supposed to look, so fix it!"

Rory jerked her arm out of Carlos' grasp. "I can't do that if you break my arm!" she spat, but she was already climbing over the Major to pry open the panel in the DHD. "If I do this, you have to try to stop the bleeding in the Major's chest because I'm pretty sure it's not part of the Marine handbook to let superior officers die on routine traffic stops!"

Carlos should have made some sort of witty retort, but he was too busy holding the pressure bandages in place with one hand, and shooting his P-90 at anything that moved with the other. Everything entered one of those peculiar states of hyper vigilance, where the lights seems too bright, smells nauseatingly sharp, sounds very close. 

Rory hissed as she dug her hands into the guts of the DHDs. As the Major's body grew limper, Carlos made an attempt at levity, if only to focus on something other than the overwhelming smell of blood. "Come on, Gilmore, you got to pull this off. If I let a team full of girls die on a milk-run, all the other Marines are going to laugh at me."

"Oh my _god_ you are worse than my father!" Rory exclaimed, jabbing at the DHD with her knife. "And I'm going to tell Captain Andrews that you called him a girl!" 

"Whatever, girlfriend." Carlos broke off to fire into the thicket at the emerging Durrae. Two more bodies fell to the ground as he saw a most welcome sight - Captain Andrews and Sgt. Mehra, both alive and moving and looking angry. 

And right behind them, about ten Durrae, loaded and ready for bear.

"I think I got it!" Rory shouted. She didn't wait for Carlos' heartfelt _then fucking dial it now!_ to scramble to her knees to punch in the coordinates for Atlantis.

The moment the Gate was open, all sound burst back into Herrera's radio, from Captain Andrews shouting and from half a galaxy away, the cool response from Atlantis as they received the code from Rory's GDO and were lowering the shield.

"Atlantis, we are coming in hot!" Carlos shouted, standing to give Rory cover to get to the Gate. "Do not raise the shield until we are all through! Repeat, we are coming in hot!"

Instead of bolting _like she was supposed to_ , Rory started dragging Major Teldy towards the Gate. Out of the corner of Carlos' vision, he spotted armed Durrae traders flanking them on the edges of the clearing. Swinging his P-90 around, Carlos took out the gunman on one side, but that left the guy on the other side momentarily free to shoot.

Carlos didn't hear the bullet, but he did hear the thud as Rory collapsed hard onto the dirt, dropping the Major. Carlos swapped out his empty magazine, then cut down the gunman in a controlled burst of bullets. 

Rory was already on her feet again, and Carlos thought maybe she tripped. Giving up on the prescribed first-aid hold, Rory grabbed the front of Major Teldy's vest and dragged her bodily through the wormhole.

Now that the civilian and the wounded were out of danger, Carlos only had to focus on providing cover to his remaining team members. Using the DHD to steady his aim, Carlos began picking off the Durrae who could do the most damage to his team. The P-90 wasn't exactly known for its accuracy, but the distance wasn't that far, and Carlos was one of the best snipers his battalion had ever seen. 

Sgt. Mehra flew past him towards the gate, Captain Andrews hot on her heels. "Go through, Staff Sergeant!" the Captain shouted, pausing by Carlos' side. 

"I've got your back, sir!" Carlos replied, everything calm in his head now as he fired on the Durrae stupid enough to keep coming. 

Captain Andrews muttered something that Carlos didn't hear, but the man ran towards the Gate and Carlos followed, moving backwards over the terrain. These were among the most dangerous steps he had ever traveled, on his own, no cover, with nothing but bullets between him and the enemy.

One of the men by the trees raised his weapon to fire at Carlos, but then the wormhole swallowed him whole and spat him out across the galaxy. No sooner had Carlos cleared the event horizon than the shield shimmered into existence, and a loud collision hit the shield just Carlos' head had been. 

_Safe._

Carlos let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he turned away from the Stargate to the chaos behind him. A medical team buzzed around Major Teldy, with an urgency that told him she was still alive. Sgt. Dusty Mehra was handing off her weapons to security, a sickly paleness under her brown skin contrasting with the triumphant exultation on her face. _Adrenaline freak_ , Carlos thought fondly. He'd worked with Dusty at the SGC before coming to Atlantis and he was used to her propensity for death-defying situations.

Captain Andrews seemed fine, moving without trouble, so Carlos took a step deeper into the room to look for Gilmore. She was hovering close to the medical team, absolutely covered in Major Teldy's blood, and it occurred to Carlos that he didn't know why she'd fallen back on the planet.

He had taken two steps across the floor, intent on Gilmore, and suddenly Captain Andrews was in his face, red-faced and pissed. "What the hell is wrong with you, Staff Sergeant?" the Captain shouted. "I gave you a direct order to head back through the Gate!"

Carlos snapped to attention, his P-90 falling to his side as he focused on a spot on the wall over the Captain's head. "Sir, I--"

"You are not the only person who can fire a weapon, sniper training or no!"

"Sir, I had the shot and the best cover--"

"Stop talking!" Andrews shouted. Over his head, Carlos could see that the altercation had attracted the attention of Lt. Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Carter, both crossing the floor from different directions.

But Rory got there first. "He saved our lives!" she exclaimed, shoving her way between Carlos and the Captain. Carlos stepped back, pulling Rory with him. "She nearly bled out before we got back and the only reason we're not all lying dead back there is that Carlos shot enough of the bad guys before they could shoot more of us!"

From the expression on the Captain's face, Carlos knew that Rory wasn't helping. He lowered his head to tell her just that, when he saw something he hadn't before. In all the confusion, he'd assumed that all the blood on Rory's white skin and uniform was from Major Teldy, but now, in the clean light of the Gatrium, he saw the gash across Rory's throat, seeping blood in a steady stream.

"Medic!" Carlos shouted, clapping a hand over Rory's throat. Rory tried to pry his hand free, but he was stronger than she was even when she wasn't bleeding from a neck wound. "Stop squirming, you're injured!"

Colonel Sheppard grabbed Rory's arm, preventing her from fighting Carlos. "Easy, Rory, let's get you checked out by the nice doctors," Sheppard said in his 'calming wounded animals' voice. "Plenty of time for a post-mission brief afterwards."

"But that isn't what happened!" Rory protested, glaring at Captain Andrews. A nurse appeared to maneuver a bandage over Rory's neck, waiting for Carlos to move his hand away before applying pressure. 

More medics appeared, fresh from the infirmary, as the first wave had already retreated with the Major into the waiting arms of the surgical hall. Colonel Sheppard had to physically push Rory along with the medics to get her moving. The Colonel stared after the crowd until Gilmore was out of sight.

"Staff Sergeant--" Captain Andrews began again, but the Colonel turned around and cut him off. 

"Captain Andrews, Sgt. Mehra, go get checked out," he said flatly, a bright light in his eyes daring one of them to disobey. Dusty gave Carlos a wide-eyed look as she hurried after the medics. Captain Andrews was slower in moving, and the deliberate way he stared at Carlos was a challenge.

Colonel Carter stepped up to Sheppard. "I'm going to see how Major Teldy is doing," she said in a low voice. "And see what happened there."

"Ma'am," Sheppard said, never taking his eyes off Carlos. The room emptied as personnel reluctantly went about their business. 

Carlos made himself breathe out. It felt as if hours had gone by, but really, it had been less than ten minutes since his team had first been pinned behind the DHD on that blue-skied planet. And, in that ten minutes, the team leader had been shot, Gilmore had been shot, and Captain Andrews had gone batshit insane about orders and rank when clearly, Carlos had been the best person to give the retreating team cover, with his marksmanship skills and--

"Staff Sergeant?" Sheppard said, and Carlos snapped back to attention. The man stepped in front of him, face blank and dangerous and Carlos barely had a chance to remember that Sheppard had his eye on Gilmore, a girl Carlos had supposed to be protecting, when Sheppard went on, "Are you in any way needing medical attention?"

Carlos' spine went even straighter at the sarcasm and challenge in Sheppard's voice. At that moment, it wouldn't have mattered if Carlos had been bleeding to death from a gut shot, he'd never admit it. 

"No, sir!"

"Then come with me."

Carlos automatically handed his P-90 to the waiting security officer and followed Sheppard down the steps, out into the hall, into what he assumed was the man's office. He'd never actually been inside, and the rumors were that Sheppard never had, either.

Carlos came to attention again as Sheppard stopped beside the cluttered desk. "Give me your pack," Sheppard said, holding out his hand.

Why the hell did he mean? What would that have to do with what had happened on the planet, or in the Gateroom with Andrews?

The corner of Sheppard's eye twitched. "Staff Sergeant, give me your pack," he said again, making it into an order.

Fine. Unclipping the straps of his pack, Carlos dropped it on Sheppard's desk before resuming his position. He wondered why the hell Sheppard wasn't in the infirmary with Gilmore, or waiting to hear about Major Teldy, or anything but standing around in his office. 

Sheppard yanked the canteen from the pouch on the pack. He hefted it, then raised his eyebrows. "How long were you off-world?" he asked.

Carlos stared at his CO. What did it matter how long the team had been away from Atlantis? Risking breaking his stance to check his watch, Carlos said. "A little over four hours, sir!" 

"Be more specific."

What the hell was wrong with the man? Carlos thought back to the beginning of the mission, past the blood and the killing, to standing on the Gatrium floor with Major Teldy and Mehra and Gilmore and Andrews before they headed out. "Four hours and eighteen minutes, sir!"

"Sit down," Sheppard ordered. Carlos folded into the chair before he could think why it might be a bad idea. "How many seconds is that?"

"Sir, what does--"

"How many seconds, Marine?"

Not dumb enough to disobey when Sheppard looked that intense, Carlos tried to remember how many minutes in an hour, and then how many seconds in a minute. When he finally looked up, answer on his tongue, Sheppard was leaning against the edge of his desk, his feet a few inches from Carlos' chair. 

"Fifteen thousand, two hundred and forty seconds, sir," Carlos said. 

Sheppard gave him a nod, some of the tension easing out of the man's jaw. He handed Carlos a full canteen. "I'll spare you the lecture on proper hydration in the field, as long as you drink that before Keller comes down here looking for you," Sheppard said. "I'll wait."

For the third time that week, Carlos wondered how a man like Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was still in control of an entire base of Marines. A proper Marine CO would be chewing Carlos a new one for letting his team be ambushed on unfriendly ground, or at his audacity to talk back to Captain Andrews in the Gateroom. Not asking obscure math problems or ordering him to finish off his canteen.

But Carlos Herrera was a Marine, and he did what he was ordered. 

As he lifted the canteen to his mouth, he wondered distantly why the thing was shaking. It took him a moment to realize that it was his hand that was shaking, still covered with blood, blood from Major Anne Teldy and Civilian Scientist Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, and he had no idea if they were going to be alright.

Pushing that away, Carlos concentrated on sipping from his canteen. If he tried very hard, he could pretend that Sheppard wasn't glaring daggers into him.

After a few minutes, when the canteen was almost empty and Carlos wondered if he might just throw up, Sheppard said, "All right, let's go through it."

"Through what, sir?" Carlos asked. He wasn't trying to be an asshole, not really, but the whole day was an adrenaline soaked blur in his head and he honestly didn't know what Sheppard wanted.

"All of it, linear fashion. What happened when you stepped through the gate to about..." He checked his watch. "Ten minutes ago when we walked into my office." Sheppard reached for his tablet computer and hit a button. "Mission report of Staff Sergeant Carlos Herrera," he said into the microphone, then set the computer down.

Carlos really hated these on-the-spot audio mission reports. They were only done when things had gone to shit in a can, to measure immediate reactions. Knowing that only Sheppard and Colonel Carter would ever hear it did nothing to calm his nerves.

Taking a deep breath, Carlos began. "When we exited the wormhole, Major Teldy ordered Captain Andrews and myself to secure a perimeter around the Stargate while Ms. Gilmore and Sgt. Mehra were to scan the area..."

Carlos talked and talked, going back over points Sheppard wanted explained in fuller detail. Trying to find the words to explain his actions and reactions was the hardest point, but Carlos kept going, mostly because of the challenge in Sheppard's eyes. 

He was almost at the point their radios stopped working, from some sort of interference from whatever had ripped the DHD apart, when Sheppard's spine stiffened and his hand lifted to his ear. Carlos broke off, his mouth drying up at the blank expression on Sheppard's face. "Sir?"

Sheppard held up his hand for silence. After a moment, he said, "You're sure? I know -- No, I don't see -- But..." He closed his mouth with an audible click. "Yeah, fine." He tapped his earpiece irritably, then pushed off the desk to pace across the room. 

Carlos could take no more. "Sir, is the Major all right?" he demanded.

Sheppard swung around. "What? Oh, yeah, she's fine." He put his hands on his hips, biting his lip, and Carlos couldn't see a single reason for the man to look so closed off. "She's still in surgery but the doc says she's out of danger for now."

A wave of complete relief swept over Carlos. The Major was going to live. Knowing her, she'd probably be on her feet and ordering the enlisted men around in no time.

But Sheppard still stood there, that expression of unease on his face, which was the only reason Carlos pressed on. "Then what's happening?"

Sheppard rubbed his hand over his face as he returned. This time, he sat in his chair, putting the bulk of the desk between them. "There has been an allegation made to Colonel Carter, about you." He cleared his throat. "Under Section 654 of Title 10."

The words crashed into Carlos and took his breath away. After all he'd given to the Marine Corps and the Stargate program, fought with these people and bled with these people, and now someone was trying to get him kicked out of the military for being _gay_?

It had to be Captain Andrews who had made the allegations. The man had been riding Carlos' back since he arrived in November. No one else had expressed a problem with any of the homosexual members of the military or scientists, regardless of what nation they were from. And this couldn't be a coincidence that it happened half an hour after Andrews blew his lid in the Gateroom. 

"Sit _down_ , Staff Sergeant." Sheppard's voice knocked Carlos back to reality. At some point, he'd risen to his feet. But what the hell was he going to do? Go confront a senior officer about being a homophobic asshole and get himself brought up on assault charges? 

Although with the way he was feeling right now, punching Captain Andrews in the face was _really_ tempting.

"Staff Sergeant," Colonel Sheppard repeated. Carlos slowly sat down. "I only have one question for you."

 _I thought you weren't supposed to ask,_ Carlos thought bitterly. "Sir?"

Sheppard folded his hands on the desk and stared at Carlos. "Staff Sergeant Herrera, have you ever behaved in such a way as to be a discredit to the United States Marine Corps?"

Unbidden, Carlos shot to his feet and put his hands behind his back, at attention. "No sir! Never, sir!"

Sheppard stood. "Understood, Marine. Now, go on down to the infirmary and get checked out."

"Yes sir!"

It wasn't until Carlos had retrieved his pack and was in the doorway that Sheppard said, "Staff Sergeant?"

Carlos turned around.

"Steer clear of Captain Andrews for now." Sheppard's voice was iron. "Consider that a direct order."

"Sir!"

Carlos marched out of Sheppard's office and down the hall, moving with purpose. Was he imagining that people were looking and whispering at him? Could they have heard already? The Atlantis gossip system was legendary, faster at information dissemination than at the SGC. And if Andrews had gone down to the infirmary with Colonel Carter, and accused Carlos of homosexual conduct in front of everyone...

Pausing in an alcove, Carlos let his pack fall to the ground as he leaned against the wall, suddenly nauseous. All these years in the Corps, being so careful with his personal life, fighting with everything he had to protect the United States, and then Earth and the entire Galaxy against the Goa'uld and the Ori, and now the Wraith, and this was what it got him? Vilified and five steps away from being discharged because of the way he was?

Was this what it felt to have your life fall down around you?

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready to leave the infirmary? Maybe you should stay here. I can bring you some food. You should stay here in case you start bleeding again or there's a side effect. They're better at dealing with side effects when people are here, and not in their own rooms."

"Stop!" Rory put up her hands to ward her father off, ignoring the pull on her neck. "Rodney, I'm fine. It was just a scratch." 

"You were shot!" Rodney was doing that Lady Macbeth hand-wringing thing again. "You were shot in the neck! People who get shot in the neck should be in the infirmary, not discharged to free up bed space! What are we, an overcrowded inner-city ER?"

Rory stared at him. "You're from Canada! You have free socialist health care! When have you ever been in a crowded inner-city ER?"

"That's not the point! You were shot!"

"I'm fine!

"How can you be fine when you were shot?"

Rory grabbed Rodney's arm and pulled him into Keller's office, away from the increasingly annoyed glares from the medical staff. "I don't want to stay in the infirmary! I hate hospitals, the only time I'm ever in them is when someone's sick and dying, and I am not staying here overnight!"

Rodney was momentarily distracted from his impending panic attack by Rory's unintentional vehemence. "Who are you talking about?"

Sometimes, Rory could forget that Rodney did actually listen on occasion. She let out her breath in a huff. "My grandfather," she admitted, letting go of Rodney's jacket sleeve. "He had two heart attacks. Once when I was in high school and once when I was in college. Both times, I was there when he collapsed and I had to go to the hospital with him and I can't--" She stopped talking, wondering what the pressing sensation on her chest was, if she was having a heart attack of her own and how ironic that would be, when someone pushed her into a chair and there was babbling over her head but it sounded like she was underwater.

"Miss Gilmore," someone repeated a few times. Rory made herself focus. It was Doctor Howard from the medical team, the only doctor on duty not in the operating room with Major Teldy. "What's happening?"

"I'm fine," Rory said weakly. She glanced over to where Rodney was leaning against the wall, pale as a sheet. "Really, it was just a thing, I'm fine."

"A delayed reaction to being shot is not unexpected," said the doctor. He felt Rory's pulse, looked at her pupils, double-checked the stitches in her neck beneath the gauze bandage. "Are you sure you don't want to remain in the infirmary for a little longer? Luckily we have more room than most inner-city hospitals." That last was delivered with a glance at Rodney.

"I don't want to stay, I just want to go back to my room and have a shower," Rory insisted. She still wore clothes covered with Major Teldy's blood, and the memory was enough to make her a little dizzy. "Please?"

Dr. Howard gave her an appraising look. "I'm going to get you something in case you have another attack. And if you do have another attack, I want you to call us, do you understand?"

"Yeah," Rory muttered, not willing to nod with her neck injury.

The doctor disappeared back into the infirmary. Rory began silently counting down from ten. When she reached four, Rodney spoke. "But your grandfather's okay, right?"

Rory sighed. How was it possible, that after three months of working with her father, she hadn't told Rodney about her grandparents? _Because that would lead you to talk about your mother, and lord knows you're never going to do that_ , a little voice whispered in her head. "He's okay," she said, subdued. "I just don't like hospitals."

Doctor Howard returned with the anti-anxiety drugs, and a handful of painkillers for the gunshot. Rodney insisted on walking Rory to her quarters, then coming in to make sure she had water and blankets and enough cushions, hovering until Rory was ready to scream. 

"I'll be fine."

"I know," Rodney said, adjusting a cushion once more. 

"You have work to do."

Rodney put the cushion back on the couch and picked up a blanket. "Probably."

Rory pulled the blanket out of Rodney's hands. "Dad, stop."

Rodney blinked at her. "What?"

"They wouldn't have let me leave if I wasn't okay, you know that."

Rodney shrugged. "I know, it's just..." 

Rory waited.

"I wasn't there."

"On what, the planet?" Rory asked. "You weren't supposed to be, you and Radek were running experiments."

"In the Gateroom when you came back," he clarified. "I should have been there."

Rory wondered how much more he would freak out if she put her head into her hands to weep. "You can't be in the Gateroom all the time when I'm off-world. For starters, Sam will kill you."

"But-- You're my daughter." Rodney blinked, sounding surprised at himself. "You shouldn't be in danger."

It occurred to Rory that this didn't have anything to do with her, which made things a little easier to handle. She'd been dealing with freaking parents and grandparents in various incarnations for over twenty-five years. "I made it through, and I'll be okay," Rory said. "I've been going off-world with teams at the SGC and Atlantis for months now. I know how to fire a gun and run away and hide, and fix a DHD and fly a Jumper. I can handle myself off-world."

"But you were _shot_."

Rory gave Rodney a hug. "You've been shot too. Must be a McKay family tradition."

Rodney awkwardly patted Rory's back. "Then we need new off-world traditions."

Rory stepped away to put the blanket on the couch. "How about wacky accidental marriages?"

"That's Lorne's team," Rodney replied absently.

"Tattoos?"

"Ronon has that covered for everyone."

"How about insulting people's religion?" Rory meant it to be a joke, but Rodney just sighed. 

"That's something." He looked at her. "Are you absolutely certain that you're not in any danger of aneurysm or not clotting or--"

"Rodney!"

Sometimes, the time-tested methods worked the best. Rodney stopped mid-diatribe. "You'll be okay?"

Rory gently but firmly pushed Rodney towards the door. "Go back to work. I'll see you in the morning?"

In the doorway, Rodney baulked. "It's just..." He rubbed his hands together nervously. "Seeing you hurt isn't right."

Rory bit down on the snappy comeback of _it's no picnic for me either_ , because he really was trying. "I'll be okay."

"Right." 

Rodney walked away. Rory retreated back into her room, putting the drugs on her bedside table. She _was_ fine, just a little banged up on the edges. Major Teldy had been hurt way worse. And the woman would be fine now. The doctors had said she wasn't in any additional danger because of the delay caused by the broken DHD.

The DHD Rory almost hadn't been able to fix. 

A shower worked to clean the blood and gore off her skin, but even the hot water wasn't enough to warm Rory's hands. She turned off the water after a few minutes and dried her skin, stepping into another uniform without really paying attention to what she was doing. There was still a bit of dirt under her fingernails and she wasn't sure how to get her hands clean.

Maybe she should try to work. Rory got out her computer and stared at the screen, but the numbers didn't mean anything to her. 

Major Teldy had almost died, and Rory had been shot, and the whole team had very nearly died because Rory had taken so long to fix the DHD.

Putting the computer down, Rory went out onto the balcony. The sun was setting over the horizon, the light sliding lazily along the water's edge. 

Even if Rory had died, the sun would still be setting, and the only difference was that Rory wouldn't be around to see it.

Rory pushed off the railing. She should just forget about work for a little while, do a little reading. That would calm her down. She wouldn't have a panic attack or hysterics, even if she had been shot. People in Atlantis were hurt all the time, and they didn't fall apart just because they'd nearly let their entire team be killed because they panicked on the battlefield and--

The air seemed a little thin. Rory concentrated on breathing. She'd go find a book to read, and she'd lie on her bed to read for a while, and then she'd drift off to sleep, and when she woke up in the morning she'd be all right and Major Teldy would be out of surgery, and everything would be back to normal.

That was how Rory ended up walking a slow path along the Atlantis hallway, following the pulsing of the light until she found herself outside of John Sheppard's door.

He answered the door as soon as she knocked, his hair damp and a towel in his hands. He was only in a t-shirt and pants, his feet bare against the cold floor. "Are you okay?" he asked as soon as he saw her.

Rory blinked at him. "If one more person asks me that, I might scream."

John winced in sympathy. "Sorry." He tossed the towel at a chair, missing by a few inches. "Can I help you with something?"

"Can I borrow your book?"

John lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "What book?"

"War and Peace. Rodney mentioned a while ago that you brought a copy as your personal item in the first year of the expedition. Can I borrow it? I don't have anything to read."

John put one hand on the doorframe. "You won't want to borrow it," he hedged.

For some reason, his words made her angry. "Why is everyone convinced that they know what I want?" she demanded. 

John's eyes went wide. "What?"

"Dr. Howard thinks I need medication, Rodney is convinced I need to talk about everything, and now you're convinced I don't want to read a book?" Her voice was rising a little hysterically, but damn it, she was sick of everyone around her telling her she didn't know her own mind. "So what if I've been shot and lost a little blood? It happens all the time to everyone else, no one ever tried to tell Sam what she wants!"

John looked at her for a moment, then stepped back to let Rory into the room. The door closed behind her with a whisper. "That isn't what I meant," he said. He picked up a large book from the desk, a bookmark near the very front of the pages, and handed it to Rory.

She looked at the cover, but instead of the expected words, a gibberish of unfamiliar characters presented themselves to her. "What is this?"

"War and Peace."

"It's in Russian."

John twitched a shoulder.

"Do you even _know_ Russian?"

"That's why I'm only on page twenty-three."

Rory looked at John, his words not making any sense to her, until he took the book out of her hands and gently guided her over to the couch. He sat beside her.

"What's up?" he asked quietly.

Rory bit her lips, feeling the panic well up in her chest again. "I almost couldn't fix it," she whispered. 

"Fix what?"

"The DHD." She stared at her hands, at the dirt under her nails and the long scratch down her arm from one of the DHD's sharp edges. "Major Teldy had been shot, and we didn't know where the Captain and Dusty were, and the DHD was broken and Carlos was shooting everything in sight, and I just froze."

"But you did fix the DHD," John reminded her. His voice was low and close. "You fixed the DHD and got everybody home. You even dragged the Major through the wormhole after you'd been shot yourself."

"But I almost didn't!" Rory insisted. Why wasn't he listening to her?

"Hey, it's okay," John said. He put his hand on her shoulder, and the sudden warmth was a shock. "I got Herrera's report while you were in the infirmary. He said you performed a miracle out there today."

"That's not it!"

"Rory, you fixed the DHD--"

"So?"

"So have you ever seen the inside of a DHD outside of a schematic, let alone jury-rigged one to get everyone home?"

"That's not--"

"Not what? Not the point?" John's hand slid down her arm to cup her elbow. "You did exactly what you were supposed to do off-world. You had your team's back, and you got them home in one piece."

"But I'm not--" Rory broke off, not even sure what she was trying to say. John just sat here, his hand on her arm, holding her in place even as her mind threatened to spin off in all directions. "I'm not the first-wave kind of girl.

John's face scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

"I'm the second wave," Rory tried to explain. "I got to the SGC after everything had been fixed, all the Goa'uld and the Ori. Same with coming here, I was supposed to be here after all the dangerous things had gone past. I don't know how to be the one dealing with... with this!"

"What about the first week you were here and you helped save the city from another drone?" John reminded her. 

"That's not the same, it's..." Rory burned her head in her shaking hands. "I know we're all safe, but every time I try to calm down I keep thinking that if I didn't mess up this time, I'll do it next time and get people killed!"

John's hand slid up her arm to rest on her back again, heavy and warm and the closest Rory had come to non-violent physical contact in months. "And you think we don't all do that?"

Rory tried to turn her head to look at him, but pain lanced through her neck at the motion, so she physically turned, regretting the motion as soon as John's hand left her back. "What?"

"Everyone on Atlantis knows that we're risking death every day," John said, sounding tired. "We do what we can, we work together, and we hope that it's enough."

"So why am I the only one falling apart?" Rory asked, the hysteria churning in her stomach, and something else pushing at her consciousness. She could swear she could _feel_ the warmth coming from John's body. 

"Trust me, you're not the only one." A small smile ghosted across John's face as he reached out to push a strand of drying hair behind Rory's ear. His fingers brushed over Rory's cheek, and she shivered with a sensation that had nothing to do with the cold. "I think everyone here has fallen apart at least once."

"Even you?" 

For some reason, John's eyes drifted up to the Johnny Cash poster over his bed. "Yeah, even me."

John was still touching her cheek, and Rory was finding it hard to think straight. She stood up suddenly, wondering if she should go, and the abrupt movement left her light-headed. John was on his feet in an instant, holding her arm to steady her. 

"Thanks," Rory said, aware that she was blushing. "Sorry."

"It's okay," John said. He let go of her arm. "You'll be good."

"That's what everyone keeps saying." Rory tried to smile. "Maybe it's even true." She was about to say something else, to excuse herself from his presence before she did something stupid, but then she caught a glimpse out the windows, and her original intention were forgotten. 

Without a word, Rory stepped around John to the balcony door, fumbling open the latch and stepping onto the platform, eyes only for the sight before her. John Sheppard had picked for himself the most amazing view of the night-time city, with light playing off the buildings in a symphony of color and warmth.

"It's beautiful," Rory breathed, belatedly aware that John had joined her on the balcony. "I've never seen this side of the city at night before."

"You like?" John asked.

"It's..." Rory pointed at one of the smaller towers, with light spilling out the top and streaming down the spiral sides in a waterfall of illumination. "I've never seen anything like it, the way the light just moves down the building like that!"

John leaned on the railing beside her. "You can see that?"

"Can't you?" Rory asked, momentarily startled. 

"How the light moves? Yeah, I can, but the only other person I know who can is Lorne."

"Oh. Is that bad?"

John shook his head, his gaze never leaving her face. "It's not bad at all, just... unexpected."

Disconcerted by the weight in his eyes, Rory turned back to look out over the city. "This is really the most amazing view," she said wistfully.

John leaned closer to her, his body blocking the gentle breeze. "So, did you, um, hear what Andrews and Carter were talking about in the infirmary?" he asked out of nowhere.

"No, Rodney showed up and was talking over everyone when Sam got down there, then Dr. Howard pulled me into his office to do the stitches in my neck. Why?

"No reason," John said hastily. He inched even closer to Rory and pointed at something by the East Pier. "What do you think of that one?"

Rory craned her neck to see what John was pointing at, having to lean into his body to see. "It looks like a flower of light!" she said in delight. "It's so beautiful from here."

"Yeah, there's nothing like it on Earth, not even the Antarctic base," John said just beside Rory's ear, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. She shivered again. "Atlantis is amazing."

Rory spent a few minutes looking at the sights, her breath coming a little faster as John stayed pressed against her side. "I'm glad I came here," Rory said after a while. She blushed again. "It's nice."

"Yeah," John said, not at all seeming to notice how banal her words were. "It's good that you're here. You're doing good work and, uh, yeah. Everything."

Rory turned slightly. John had that slightly confused look he got whenever he was trying to compliment someone, which made him look like a rumpled kid, even up close and knowing he was fifteen years older than she was. "Really?"

John smiled, his confidence coming back. "Would I lie about something like that?" he asked. He ran his thumb along her jaw and over her throat. "The answer to that is no, by the way."

Rory wondered idly if it was possible to spontaneously combust from such slight physical contact. Seriously, Jack O'Neill could march through the room playing an accordion and leading a marching band, and Rory probably wouldn't notice. She licked her lower lip, aware that John's gaze followed the movement of her tongue. "Good," she said, not remembering what they were talking about. "Really."

"Right," John said faintly. His hand moved to cup the back of her neck, gently holding her in place against his body, but he just _stayed_ like that, looking at her.

In the end, Rory was the one to move in to kiss him. She wasn't sure if she'd been planning to just kiss John once and then run away, but two years of celibacy and a day of near-death experiences overrode her common sense at the touch of his lips. 

John made a noise low in his throat, pulling her against his body as he kissed her back with growing intensity. It was completely overwhelming, falling into the familiar rhythm of lips and tongue and touch, and she never wanted it to stop.

Inevitably, however, Rory pulled back for air. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes to find John staring at her, his eyes dark. She tried to think of something to say, but nothing would come out.

"Would it be inappropriate for me to ask you to stay?" John asked, nearly as breathless as she. The words would have been awkward but for the slide of his hand down her spine.

"No," Rory whispered, hardly able to think over the thrum of blood in her veins. 

"Then will you stay?" John continued, smiling in confident delight, and Rory felt her knees go weak. 

This would be fine, Rory told herself. There'd been a thing between them for a while, and no one else needed to know. This was just them, just for now. 

"I'll stay," Rory breathed, then pulled John down to kiss her again. 

* * *

"I should go."

The statement should have been redundant, seeing as how Rory was searching for her shirt in the pile of discarded clothing, but she couldn't look at John to see how it was received. 

"You don't have to," John said from the bed. The offer fell flat, because Rory wasn't really sure how he would be able to explain someone sneaking out of his quarters in the morning any easier than in the dead of night. 

Finding her shirt, Rory pulled it over her head, refusing to wince at the pain in her neck. Through some miracle of physics and medical technology, her stitches hadn't split during the activity of the last few hours. "I need to eat something."

Her hair fell in her eyes as she laced up her boots, obscuring her vision as something in the back of her head began to ping about _what the hell am I doing_? 

When she sat up, the grey around the edges of her vision pressed in for a moment. She pressed her hand to her forehead, willing the dizziness to go away. 

"Hey, what is it?" John asked, his hands going around her waist. For a moment, Rory forgot herself and leaned back into the embrace, wishing that this could just _be_ , independent of everything outside that door. But life wasn't like that. 

"Just a little tired," Rory said. And if she didn't turn her head to look at John, it had everything to do with her neck. "Thanks for not loaning me your book."

John laughed in a tiny huff against her cheek, momentarily wiping away all of Rory's resolve to _leave now_. "Anytime."

Rory gently pushed John's hands away and stood. "I'll probably see you tomorrow."

"Probably." John looked up at her, his hair even more of a mess than usual and _naked and sweaty under those sheets_ and Rory had to get out of there before she did anything to make this even worse. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Sure," Rory replied too fast. "Made it through this day, remember?"

"Yeah." John caught Rory's hand, but instead of kissing her knuckles like anyone else would have done (anyone else she'd slept with, that is, with its statistically insignificant sample size of two), he squeezed her palm in reassurance. "You did."

She would not cry. She would not break down in front of this man after this day, not here and certainly not now. 

In the end, she just pulled her hand free, and left John's room.

She made it as far as the end of the hall before she caught her reflection in the glass of the water filtration columns. Her hair was a mess, tangled like it had dried while she was flat on her back and oh god, if anyone else saw her, they'd know what happened, what she had done.

Ignoring the pain in her neck, Rory pulled her hair into a rough ponytail. Now that she was out of John's presence, away from him looking at her with those green eyes and that smile that should really be banned in Boston, the self-doubt began hammering away inside her head. 

What had she _done_? 

* * *

The mess hall was almost empty. A late-night Marine coffee klatch occupied the alcove near the end, but Rory could avoid them if she wanted. Dr. Simpson was at a table near the coffee urn, preoccupied with her computer. Rory gave the woman her space, instead taking a roast near-deer sandwich from the cooler and sitting in the middle of the room by herself. 

It wasn't the end of the world, she tried to tell herself. So what if she'd slept with the military commander of Atlantis? Did it matter if he was her father's best friend, and old enough to be her father himself?

Did it matter that she was jeopardizing her career and the life she'd built for herself at the SGC by falling into bed with the first guy on Atlantis who'd shown her any interest at all?

The churning in her stomach was back. Rory stared at her sandwich, hoping she wouldn't be sick, as she imagined all the ways that this one bad decision could ruin her life. People would start saying that she only got where she was because she slept with the people in charge. It would start with John, then go back to her whole time at the SGC. 

And Rodney would be so furious.

Rory picked at the edge of the sandwich, distancing herself from the memory of the past few hours. She had to admit to herself that part of the reason she'd gone to John's room didn't have anything to do with the book. She'd practically forced her way into his room, she'd kissed him first, and she certainly hadn't demurred at anything he'd suggested in bed.

Shame crawled its way up her spine. What was John going to _think_ of her in the morning?

"Hey."

Rory nearly jumped out of her skin. "Jesus, Carlos, don't do that!" she exclaimed as the man sat across the table from her. "I-- what's wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" Herrera asked, hands loose on the table. He was exhausted, grey around the edges, eyes a little bloodshot. 

"You look like hell. Did something happen to the Major? You weren't hurt, right?"

"Major Teldy's fine," Carlos said, slouching over the table. Rory had never seen him so defeated before. "I wasn't hit off-world, you know that."

"What did the doctors say?" Rory put her fingers on Carlos' hand. He was ice cold. 

He shrugged. "I was fine so I didn't bother with the infirmary."

"Didn't bother..." Rory let her voice trail off. "But it's procedure coming back from off-world!"

Carlos drummed his fingers on the table, not meeting her gaze. "They were busy."

Rory stared at him. "What happened? Something had to have happened. You're a stickler for protocol. You even make your bed when no one's watching."

"Maybe I'm sick of all the bullshit," Carlos muttered. He rubbed his hands over his face. "You didn't hear what Andrews said to Colonel Carter, did you." It wasn't a question.

That was the second time Andrews had been brought into the conversation. First John, now Carlos. "The doctor was stitching me up, I didn't hear anything they were saying. What is it?"

Carlos let his hands fall. "He, uh... He told the Colonel that I was engaging in homosexual conduct."

Rory felt the blood drain from her face. "He did not!" she exclaimed, horrified. 

"Well, no, actually he said he wasn't working with a fucking faggot anymore, and how had someone like me even ended up in the Marine Corps?" Carlos said, contained anger dripping off every word. "Then he started citing military policy on me, now the Colonel has to open an investigation." He raised an imaginary glass. "Here's to the system."

"But..." Rory sat back, head racing. "What does it matter? There are other gay soldiers on base."

"From England," Carlos reminded her. "Where it's legal to be flaming in uniform."

"Stop that!" Rory jabbed his hand with her finger. "This will all just go away--"

"I'm not going to lie," Carlos interrupted her suddenly. "If the Colonel or Lieutenant Colonel ask, I'm not going to lie about it. I'm not going to do it."

Rory stared at her friend, at the man who had saved her life earlier in that day, and didn't know what to say to him. There was nothing she could do to make this any better, because for all the talk about loose adherence to military protocol at the SGC and Atlantis, she knew that everyone had to follow protocol, even in a situation as insane and backwards as this one.

"Does everyone know?"

Carlos snorted in derisive laughter. "Yeah, pretty much. Dusty tells me that Phillips from Botany was in the infirmary when Andrews started ranting, and you know what Botany's like with gossip."

"Yeah." 

"And it's not like I'd ever go for Andrews' ass," Carlos went on. "Like, seriously?"

"Yeah," Rory said again, this time in agreement. She wished there was something she could do for her friend, but outside of telling Colonel Carter that Andrews was a total asshole (which she was pretty sure Sam had already noticed), there was nothing.

As they sat in an awkward silence, a harsh laugh rose from the group of Marines in the corner. Something about the sound raised the hairs on the back of Rory's neck, setting the adrenaline rushing through her veins. Muttered voices trickled through the mess hall. Most of the voices were low, but when Rory heard the word _fag hag_ on the air, she was on her feet in an instant. 

"Gilmore," Carlos said in an intense voice, eyes blazing. "Let it go, it's just talk."

Rory stared at him. They'd been shot at by crazy vindictive aliens, they'd almost lost Major Teldy, Captain Andrews was trying to end Herrera's career, and he wanted her to _let it go_?

The Marines were talking again, and Rory wasn't even sure how she had made it over to their corner. They broke off when she stopped at the end of the table. "Which one of you said that?" she demanded.

Three of the Marines looked away, but the fourth, a Lieutenant who had come through to Atlantis with Andrews in November, rose to his feet. He was huge, taller than Rory and bulky with muscle, and he looked so much like the one of the Durrae who'd jumped them on the planet earlier that day, that something in Rory's head twisted and breathing got a little harder. 

"Said what?" the Lieutenant demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing up. 

"You know what I'm talking about," she said, never taking her eyes off his face. 

"I do?" the man said, almost mocking. "Maybe you need to be more careful of the company you keep."

That last was aimed over Rory's head. She didn't need to turn around to know that Carlos had her back. "You need to apologize," she said, so angry she could barely see straight. 

"What the hell for?" the Lieutenant said, shrugging off his buddy who'd risen to calm him down. The movement propelled him forward a step, and suddenly Rory was back on that planet, with bullets all around and Teldy dying on the ground and the broken DHD at her feet. 

She stumbled back two feet, pulling a chair in front of her to block the Marine's advance because in that instant _she couldn't be sure he'd stop_. The loud noise echoed in the mess hall, startling Rory more than anything else. 

The Marines froze, Rory froze, everything went completely still for a long moment. Even the light ceased to flow down the walls. 

Then a new voice sounded behind Rory, low and strong and welcome. "She's right," said Ronon, stepping up out of nowhere to stand beside Rory, glaring at the Marines. "You do need to apologize."

The Lieutenant straightened up to face Ronon and Herrera, and suddenly Rory knew she was going to throw up. She needed to be _anywhere else_. Turning on her heel, she ducked under Carlos' reaching arm and hurried past Dr. Simpson's startled face, breaking into a run when she hit the hallway.

She didn't stop running until she reached her quarters and locked the door behind her.

The room was empty, she _knew_ that, but the shaking pressure in the back of her head wouldn't let her rest until she'd looked in every corner, under the bed, double-checked the lock on the balcony door. The packed of anti-anxiety meds sat on her bedside table, mocking her with their promise of easy relaxation. 

_It's so easy_ , Rory realized, the panic of the day hammering in her head. _It's so easy for me to die and there's nothing I can do to stop it, not being smart, not sleeping with a man who saved my life years ago in New York, not anything!_

She flushed the medication down the drain and only paused long enough to yank off her boots before stepping into the shower fully clothed, letting the water soak through her clothing and over her skin.

"I want to go home," she whispered, voice drowned out under the hiss of the shower. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

The only response from the city was silence.


	21. Twentieth Century Boy

John Sheppard woke up, and things seemed kind of okay.

He hummed to himself as he showered and shaved, thinking all the while that it was a lovely day outside in spite of the rain. He wasn't sure why he was so optimistic, he reflected as he concentrated on not cutting his throat with the razor. Maybe it was because Dr. Keller had said the previous night that Major Teldy would be just fine in a few weeks. Maybe it was that John _knew_ there was no way in hell he was discharging Herrera, one of the best Marines John had ever served with, because of the gay thing.

So basically, in spite of everything, Atlantis was ticking along as close to normal as could be, and that was just fine with John.

Trying to subdue his hair made things worse. John gave up after a few attempts, instead trying to find something to wear that didn't look like it had been through four years of combat. Maybe he should raid the supply room to see if they had any new BDUs in his size. A commanding officer ought to look his best, after all.

In the meantime, John found a relatively clean shirt, its only sign of wear being the mended rip across the shoulder where he'd been on the wrong end of a knife fight a few months previous, and dressed quickly. He'd slept in and was running a little late.

Maybe he could see if Rory was free for breakfast.

The thought of seeing Rory quickened his step and, it had to be admitted, made John stand straighter. He knew he was being ridiculous, that whatever had motivated Rory to come to his room the previous night wasn't going to be long-term or anything, that the mere idea of him and _Rory Gilmore_ was wrong because she was younger than him, and he was in charge of the military on the base and then his mental reasoning descended into _blah, blah, blah_ and John stopped listening to himself.

What would happen, would happen, and John would be a gentleman about the whole thing, but if Rory wanted a repeat of the previous night, he wouldn't be adverse to the idea.

(And there was the small physiological factor that John hadn't had sex in a really, _really_ long time. Funny how a thing like that could change a man's outlook on things.)

He headed out, enjoying a stroll through Atlantis' warmly lit hallways, until he very nearly collided with Rory outside the mess hall. She looked... well, horrible. She had dark circles under her eyes and her shoulders were hunched defensively. Worry stabbed into John's chest. Unconsciously, he stepped closer to her and touched her arm. "What's up?" he asked, mentally kicking himself at the lameness of the greeting.

"It's, um, nothing's up." Rory couldn't meet his eyes. "It's just that..." Her breath caught in her throat, and she pulled her arm out of John's grasp. "Can I speak with you for a few minutes, Colonel?"

Her use of his rank kicked John in the gut. After the previous night, he'd thought...

_What, that sleeping with the twenty-five-year-old daughter of your best friend was a good idea?_

When John didn't answer, Rory lifted her gaze to John's, her face pale. "I wanted to say..." Her voice stuttered to a halt. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Regarding last night, I believe that I made an error in judgment and that my actions were inappropriate."

John couldn't do anything but listen, fighting down the hysteria building in his chest. It sounded like she was reading some kind of script or something. At least she hadn't called him _Sir_.

"And I hope that my ill-advised behavior won't negatively influence your opinion of me if we are obliged to work together in the future," she finished, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She took another step back, then another, banging into a wall and overcorrecting by nearly stepping into a post. It was as if she couldn't wait to get away from him.

There was a moment of horrible silence, when John should have said something to fix this train wreck of a disaster he'd created, but the words and his breath stuck in his throat in a sticky lump and for a moment, John thought he might be sick.

"I'm sorry," Rory blurted out suddenly, then whirled on her heel and hurried away down the corridor, nearly knocking over an Australian anthropologist and a British Lieutenant. The lieutenant looked at John, and whatever she saw on her CO's face moved her to grab her companion and haul him bodily away.

John took a moment to lean against the wall and take stock. After a few quick breaths, he managed to force down the worst of the nausea. Mostly, he was just confused.

He'd thought...

What _had_ he thought? Sure, Rory had been coming down from her first off-world injury, where she'd nearly been massacred with her entire team, but she was fine when she came to John's room, where he'd reassured her and distracted her with the lights of the city and by touching her until she'd made the decision to kiss him...

Oh _shit_.

Could he have possibly misread the situation that badly? Rory was just a kid who'd nearly died off-world. How had John managed to forget that? Had he seriously been so intent on the fact that a pretty girl seemed _interested_ in him, that he'd thrown all his common sense out the window?

John straightened up. No, no matter what happened, no matter how completely mistaken he had been about last night, even if he'd been wrong, even if he should have known better, he hadn't done anything heinous. It wasn't like he'd started the night with the intention of sleeping with the injured and mentally fragile daughter of his best friend--

John gave his head a good shake. No, he wasn't going to _think about that_. He was the military commander on a floating city in the Pegasus Galaxy. Rory had made herself quite clear on what she thought of John. He didn't have time to spend thinking about the disaster of his personal life. He had work to do.

He detoured through the mess hall to grab some breakfast, spotting Major Lorne talking to Dr. Parrish by the coffee station. "Major," John said with a jerk of his head. They may as well get to work on examining the mission reports from Teldy's team the day before.

Lorne glanced at John, smiling at something Parrish was saying. "Be right there, sir," Lorne said, his gaze going back to Parrish for a moment.

On any other day, John would have taken Lorne's reluctance to cut off a conversation in stride. But today, John had a Major in the infirmary and a Staff Sergeant threatened with a dishonourable discharge. He had no damned _time_ for insubordination from his 2IC.

"Major Lorne," John said again, his voice lower than before, but Lorne snapped to attention and was following John before Parrish had a chance to finish his sentence.

Silence rippled out across the crowd in the mess hall by the time John and Lorne exited the doors, but for once John didn't care what the expedition thought about him. He had too much to do.

They took the long way to John's office, including three flights of stairs that let John burn off enough irrational anger to trust himself to speak. "Have you had a chance to review Staff Sergeant Herrera's mission report?" John finally asked.

"Yes sir," Lorne answered. "He wrote up the remainder of his report last night and submitted it before he went off-duty. I have compared his report with that of Sergeant Mehra, and the reports are consistent."

"What about everyone else?" John asked, refusing to let himself think about names.

"Major Teldy is expected to be awake this morning to give her report," Lorne said, following John into his office. "Dr. Howard gave Ms. Gilmore a medical exemption last night due to her injuries."

John had to clamp his jaw down to avoid talking about Rory. "What about Captain Andrews?"

Lorne couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from twitching at the Captain's name. "I do believe he submitted his report directly to Colonel Carter," he said smoothly.

Perfect. John went around his desk to dig his computer out from under a pile of Torren's toys. "Get Andrews' report from the Colonel," he directed. "Then get the report from Gilmore, and construct a reconstruction of the scene. I want to know what they used to block radio transmission around the Gate."

"And the Major?"

"I'll talk to Major Teldy when she's conscious," John said. He tapped the screen of his computer to pull up the medical records. Sure enough, Dr. Keller had changed Teldy's status to "Stable" at four that morning. "We'll meet again after lunch to discuss progress. I want something to take to the Colonel by fifteen hundred hours tomorrow."

"Yes sir." Lorne hesitated, then put his hands by his sides and assumed a slightly more attentive position. "Sir, may I have permission to speak freely?"

John looked up from his computer. Lorne had a particularly mulish expression on his face. If John hadn't been trapped behind the desk in his own office, he'd have turned around and walked out. "If I say no?" he asked, just to be a bit of an asshole.

Lorne ignored it. "Then I'm still going to say this. We can't afford to lose Herrera."

"Rules are rules."

Lorne wasn't buying it. "How does it matter to Atlantis if Herrera's gay? Are the Wraith going to be any less eager to kill us all because of it?"

"Major, you know that is not the issue--"

"Do you have any idea how many times Herrera's saved everyone on my team? Hell, everyone on this city?"

John dropped his computer on the desk. "No, Major, I don't," he said sharply. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Suddenly oblivious to sarcasm, Lorne stared at John and said, "P6R-Y65. Staff Sergeant Herrera put himself in harms' way to disarm an old Genii landmine that had accidentally been tripped by Dr. Brown. M7W-XJ8. Staff Sergeant Herrera risked going out blind into a sandstorm to get help from the Stargate when my entire team was stuck down with airborne poisoning. P3--"

"P3I-D7P, PK8-E01, four times on Atlantis with the Drones, I know all this!" John snapped. "You don't need to tell me how much this city needs someone like Herrera!"

"So drop the investigation!"

"We're in the United State Military, Major, we don't get to pick and choose which regulations we enforce!" Now John and Lorne were facing down over his desk, and the worst part was that Lorne was completely right and John hated that he had to be the bad guy on this.

"If I may speak off the record?" Lorne demanded, then went on before John could speak. "This is the Stargate Program, and history would suggest otherwise."

A cold splash of rationality washed away John's rising anger. He stared at Lorne, close to horrified. "Major, I don't ever want to hear something like that from you again," John said. "And don't _ever_ hint at something like that around the Colonel!"

And still, Lorne didn't back down. "Colonel Carter has been with the Stargate Program since the beginning. She served with Herrera on Earth, same as I did."

"I know!" John shoved his hands through his hair in irritation. "I know all of this, Lorne, but I can't _not_ follow up on this accusation!"

"So shove it to the bottom of the pile! It's not like we don't have enough to keep us busy for the next four years," Lorne retorted.

John eyed the other man. "Would _you_ want the threat of a dishonourable discharge hanging over your head for years?" Something occurred to him then, a conversation he'd had with Elizabeth Weir years before concerning the personal relationship developing between two of the male scientists, and Elizabeth's outrage that John had even thought to bring the issue to her attention.

For the first time in years, the memory of Elizabeth didn't fill him with regret and guilt.

"What?" Lorne asked, and John realized he'd sighed.

"Just thinking that Elizabeth would kick my ass six ways from Sunday for this."

A flash of understanding crossed Lorne's face. "Isn't that answer enough on its own?" he asked, then left the office before John could fire him.

After all, Lorne wasn't all that wrong.

* * *

Major Anne Teldy was groggy from the meds, but she gave John enough of a report that he could fill in the blanks from Herrera's battlefield tale. He finished before Dr. Keller could do more than glare at him, and was standing to leave when Teldy asked, "Did something happen to Herrera? Doc said he hadn't come down for his exam."

John made a mental note to move faster next time. "There has been an, um... accusation made against Herrera," he said.

Teldy narrowed her eyes. She didn't have to ask what he was talking about. "By who?" she demanded, trying to sit up. "Was it Andrews?"

Dr. Keller rushed over to prevent the Major from escaping. "Major, you are not cleared to leave," the doctor said, shoving John out of the way as she reattached monitor wires. "I don't want to become more acquainted with your insides, now be still."

"Thanks for your report, Major," John said, edging his way out of the infirmary. He heard Teldy mutter something uncomplimentary about Andrews, and made a mental note to exclude her exact phrasing from his report.

Even if he didn't disagree with her.

* * *

John returned to his office and got to work. Well, he meant to work. After a few minutes of staring at the preliminary paperwork on the investigation into Carlos Herrera's personal life, he decided it wouldn't hurt if he tidied up his office a little.

An hour later, he finished wiping the alien dust off the light fixtures, straightened the box of Torren's toys and clothing he'd been meaning to return to Teyla, and sat back to his task.

But then he got an email from Zelenka, and after rattling off a reply John figured it was high time to tackle the mess of his inbox. After all, a tidy desk, a tidy mind, right?

It took him two hours to deal with all his email, and also to remember that his father had been the one to use phrases like that, and by then he was too tired to mess up his email out of remembered spite.

Then a report on food production came in that he really did have to deal with, then another report, and a few trading requests, and so on. He exercised his rarely-used commander's privilege to get a subordinate to bring him some food from the mess hall (and all it cost him was his cookie ration for two weeks, and Chuck didn't even glare at him too badly when he slapped down the tray). By the time he ran out of things to distract him from the Herrera investigation, it was twenty-five hundred hours and John couldn't keep his eyes open.

It was so late, he didn't run into anyone in the corridor. He stumbled into his room, kicked off his boots, and collapsed fully clothed into bed.

Only to open his eyes a minute later. His pillows still held the faint scent of Rory Gilmore's shampoo.

Acid churned in his stomach as Rory's carefully chosen words about _errors in judgment_ and _inappropriate actions_ danced across his memory, how she'd shied away from a simple touch. From _his_ touch.

How the hell had he messed things up so bad? How hadn't he remembered that she'd been through a traumatic day?

 _She came to borrow a book, and you had to keep touching her_ , John reminded himself bitterly. _You've been touching her all over the place since she got here. It's surprising she hasn't slapped you with a sexual harassment suit yet. Or just slapped you._

And because his own brain hated him, the idea of _touch_ mixed with the scent of Rory's shampoo from his pillow and his memories of the previous night, sending John to his feet to pace across the room.

In the end, John ended up on the couch for the night. It was, he knew, an admission of his own failure, but at least he could close his eyes without too many reminders of the previous night.

* * *

John slept badly and woke early, a kink in his spine from sleeping on the couch. He showered in cold water to wake himself up, trying to forget the details of the dream in which his ex-wife Nancy had married Rodney McKay onboard a Wraith Hive ship. John had carried the bouquet, and might have been naked, he couldn't recall.

He staggered into the mess hall for breakfast, only to trip (literally) over Rodney McKay himself. Because his reflexes were too slow, John couldn't avoid being dragged to a table and plied with coffee, all because Rodney wanted to _talk_.

"I don't think Rory's okay," Rodney began, then stopped when John nearly choked on a bite of rye toast. Coughing only bought John a few minutes, however, and then Rodney was back at it. "She says everything is okay, but she's pale and all, you know, quiet."

"Do you have any idea why that is?" John asked, ready to make a run for the door if this was Rodney's sick psychological lead into _you slept with my daughter and I've poisoned your coffee._

Rodney stared at John like John was the one with brain damage. "She was shot! She nearly died!"

John slumped in relief. So they were only talking about work, not the fact that John had very probably seduced his best friend's daughter.

"How am I supposed to know what's wrong with her? Everyone around here shouts and yells a lot when they almost die!" Rodney went on, gesturing so hard with his cup that he splashed tepid coffee on John's arm.

"So push the point," John said, wiping his hand on his trouser leg.

"She doesn't want to talk about it!"

"When the hell do you let that stop you?" John demanded, louder than he intend, but at least he didn't blurt out any of the words in his head about _I had sex with your daughter_ or something that would equally justify Rodney killing him.

"You're not helping!" Rodney accused, and oh god, wasn't that the truth.

John stood, giving up on the idea of breakfast. "Maybe she's upset about Herrera. Maybe she needs some time to deal with the ways we all come close to dying every Friday, who knows? Go talk to her yourself!"

"Wait, what happened with Herrera?" Rodney called after John, but at that point nothing short of a Wraith stunner could keep John in the same room as McKay.

* * *

By hiding in his office, John successfully avoided everyone for hours, catching up on the review of months-old paperwork. He knew he was engaging in some world-class avoidance, but maybe if he ignored the whole Herrera investigation, it would go away.

That lasted until Zelenka found him and badgered him into the Jumper bay to test out one of the faulty ships, which ended.... well, all right considering the volume of the explosion. John was on his way back from the infirmary, his arm already itching from Keller's burn cream, when Teyla found him.

"John," she called, hurrying after him as best she could with Torren on her hip. She smiled up at him wryly. "I heard what happened. Will you be well?"

"Yeah," John muttered, brandishing his arm. "This was the worst of it, hardly more than a scald. Just some sparks." He turned to leave.

"I had hoped you might join Torren and myself for lunch," Teyla continued. "We have not eaten together in some days."

John made the mistake of glancing down at little Torren, the boy's dark curls a halo around his innocent face, and the memory of _yet another failure_ was too much. "I've got a military base to run, Teyla, I don't have time for this," he snapped to cover his discomfort as he stalked away down the corridor.

He had only made it five steps when Teyla's sharp, "John!" brought him around involuntarily. He fought the urge to look away, because now Teyla was pissed. At him. Her glare very nearly made John cower like a schoolboy. "Perhaps you should attempt to make the time!" she said sharply.

Around them, the corridor mysteriously cleared of bodies. John glared back at Teyla, wondering what the hell was wrong with her, with everyone, why everything was his fault these days.

Then just as quickly as the anger came, it left. John's shoulders slumped forward and he momentarily closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Teyla was in front of him, her hand tentative on his uninjured arm.

On Teyla's other arm, baby Torren clung to his mother's shirt, staring with open-mouthed uncertainty up at the adults.

John held out his hands for the boy and with an exaggerated huff, lifted Torren up so they were face to face. "Sorry about that, buddy," John said, patting Torren's tummy in reassurance. "Being a grown-up really sucks some days."

The baby's uncertainty vanished into smiles as John tickled him. He grabbed a handful of John's collar as he babbled nonsense words.

"See? He forgives me," John told Teyla, smiling hesitantly.

Teyla brushed the curls back from Torren's face. "He is a good judge of character," she admitted. "Most days."

John kissed Torren's cheek, holding tight as the boy twisted around, giggling in delight. "What do you say, buddy, how about something to eat?"

That was how John ended up having lunch with Teyla and Torren. Well, more like he held a wiggly Torren while Teyla ate. He succeeded in getting some milk into Torren's mouth from a bottle, counting that as the biggest win of his day.

Teyla recounted some off-world trading story, while John let his mind run down from two days of self-recrimination and the potential destruction of a good man's career. He even let himself smile at Torren's antics, and he didn't try to analyze how much easier it was to deal with someone who wasn't continually disappointed in John's screw-ups.

This good mood vanished when Teyla leaned in and quietly asked, "John, what is a 'fag hag'?"

John froze, holding Torren securely against his chest while the baby drank from the bottle. " _What_ did you say?" he demanded.

Teyla drew back at his vehemence. "It is a phrase I had not heard before--"

"Did someone call you that?" John asked, anger building in his chest.

"No, it is a term that Ronon mentioned..." Teyla took one look at John's face and prudently rounded the table to retrieve her baby. "I take it from your reaction that it is not a complimentary term."

"No, it's not!" John wiped baby saliva from the back of his hand. "Where did he hear it?"

"Perhaps you should discuss this with him," Teyla said. "In the meantime, is this a question I should not bring up with anyone?"

"What?" John asked, halfway to his feet. "No. Yes. Whatever, it won't matter after I fling myself out a goddamn Jumper." This last was muttered, but perhaps wisely, Teyla didn't call him on his threat.

* * *

To say Ronon wasn't helpful would be an understatement.

"No."

John blinked at the big man. "What?"

"I said no."

"I heard what you said. What the hell won't you tell me where you heard that?"

Ronon shrugged. "Not sure it's my place to say."

Would it be unmanly to throw a tantrum? Probably. "Then who said it?"

Ronon stared.

"Fine, then who did they say it about?"

Nothing. Just as John was about to order Ronon to tell him, for all the good that might do, Ronon finally unbent enough to say, "I'm not saying anything, but you might want to talk to Gilmore."

"Did she overhear too?" John asked, before his brain caught up with reason. "Wait, someone was talking about Rory?"

"To."

Again, it took John a moment to translate Ronon-speak. When it finally came to him, he restrained the urge to kick something. "Someone called Rory a fag hag to her face?"

John knew he shouldn't be quite so angry, that he wouldn't be having this internal reaction if, say, Dr. Keller had been on the receiving end of such a comment, but this wasn't Jennifer they were talking about.

Ronon crossed his arms over his chest. "Not at first. But they did after she confronted them about it. Sort of."

John rubbed his hand over his face. This was officially out of control. He'd turned a blind eye to a certain level of banter amongst the Marines over the years, but he'd never heard of a Marine actually harassing a civilian like this, on _his_ city.

"Who was it?" John asked again, holding in his temper. After all, Ronon was just the messenger.

"Ask Gilmore."

Make that the frustrating messenger. "Ronon--"

"She's good," Ronon interrupted. "You should trust that she'll take care of herself."

John decided that he was finished with this non-conversation.

"Sheppard?" Ronon called as John headed to the transporter. "You got problems around here you got to deal with."

"I'm aware of that," John replied without turning around.

* * *

In spite of his best intentions, John still stood outside of McKay's lab for a few minutes, trying to gather up his courage.

It was just a conversation, he tried to tell himself. He needed to ask Rory vital information about the continuing military function of Atlantis. It was part of an ongoing investigation.

He was still trying to convince himself when the door opened to disgorge one of the physicists. The man looked at John strangely as he headed off, and John was left with no alternative but to enter the lab.

Rodney was going at full tilt, talking at thin air as he worked through a problem, and no one paid him any attention. Other scientists went about their own tasks. It took John a moment to locate the person he wanted, sitting all alone in an alcove by the window, staring at her computer. The bandage on her neck was very visible against her grey jacket, a spot of blood a vibrant red against the white gauze.

John's hand twitched as he remembered the feel of Rory's throat under his fingers, a memory he couldn't quite push away.

He took a deep breath as he skirted around the lab, trying hard to avoid attracting Rodney's attention. He got as far as the desk when Rory looked up.

"Hey," John said. Rory just stared. "Can I speak with you for a few minutes?"

Her eyes grew even larger, and John wondered if this was one of those _times they would be obliged to work together_ she'd talked about.

"It's a work thing," John added hastily, then hoped no one else heard him because really, what else could they be talking about?

Maybe Rory had the same idea, because she climbed to her feet and threaded her way out of the lab before John could so much as blink. The door had barely closed behind them in the hallway when she whirled on him. "Yes, Colonel?" she demanded, chin held high.

Just a work thing, John reminded himself. "It's come to my attention that you were involved in..." In a what? John changed tact, lowering his voice and stepping closer to narrow the ten-foot gap between them. "Ronon mentioned that there was an altercation between you and, well, someone, and that someone may have uttered some... derogatory comments."

Rory crossed her arms under her breasts. "He did?" she demanded. "Did he also mention that this officially sanctioned homophobia in the workplace is archaic and reprehensible?"

"Ronon's not what you'd call a big talker," John said with a shrug.

It was the wrong thing to say. Rory stepped closer to John, furious in a quiet way so unlike Rodney that John had to pause to make sure he was reading her right. "Carlos saved my life, he saved everyone's life when we were attacked!" she said urgently. "I wrote an article on Don't Ask Don't Tell at Yale, so I know exactly how many people are discharged every year from the U.S. Military under completely asinine reasons!"

"Rory--"

"I thought the Stargate program was different!" she went on. "But no, you're waltzing around here asking questions and--"

John couldn't take any more. "We are different!" he exclaimed quietly, leaning into her personal space to keep the conversation low. "I'm not going to do anything to get Herrera discharged!"

He heard himself say the words, but he didn't really understand what he'd said until Rory snapped back, stunned. "But I thought there had been formal charges made."

"There are," John said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But these things take time and I'll come up with something."

Rory blinked her big blue eyes at him. "Does the IOA have other rules I didn't know about?"

"No, but--"

"Because if they do, you'd better tell..." She stuttered to a halt. "Well, the people who think otherwise."

"Like who?" John asked, jumping on the opening. "Anyone in particular?"

Rory shook her head. "Just everyone."

"Like 'everyone' who made certain comments about you?"

But Rory wasn't falling for it. "The certain person, who I'm not going to name, apologized for that."

"Who, exactly?"

"Someone who apologized for calling me... what he called me." Rory's eyes were clear now, stronger than she'd been the previous morning. "And he did it on his own, so I'm not going to tell you."

"But underlying issues...."

"You can't blame one person for the rampant homophobia in the U.S. Military!"

John let out a sigh. Talking about this was giving him a headache. "Rory, it's not a simple issue..."

"Did you ask?"

"What?"

"Did you ask Carlos if he was gay?"

John hadn't asked, and he was never _going_ to ask. "No."

"And did he tell?"

John couldn't help himself as he answered, "Do you really think I go around encouraging people to tell me about their sex lives?"

Rory stared at John for a long moment, then wandered over to a window. Outside, the sky was gathering into a spectacular storm. "What are you going to do?" she asked after a minute.

John sighed, slumping on the wall a fair distance from Rory. "I'm going to fix this."

"How?"

"I'll get back to you on that."

Rory looked out at the storm, her expression inscrutable. John should have left, gone off on his insane self-imposed mission to circumvent established military procedure, but he stayed where he was, watching her.

After a very long time, Rory licked her lower lip. "I meant what I said yesterday," she said. "That I hope we can still work together without it being weird."

"We're working together now," John pointed out.

"Yeah." Rory finally looked at him. "Thanks." She hesitated, then blurted out, "You won't mention anything about what happened to Rodney, will you?"

"God no!" John exclaimed, physically recoiling from the mere idea.

"Good," Rory said quickly. She tugged her jacket straight. "I should go back to work."

"Right."

Rory gave John a quick smile as she ducked back into the lab, the door closing on Rodney's continued rant.

John let out a breath. See? That hadn't been too awkward. They'd talked about work, and it had been just fine.

_You just keep telling yourself that, Sheppard._

* * *

John tracked Captain Andrews down to one of the storage rooms, working on inventory.

"Don't talk, just listen to me," John ordered, coming straight to the point. Andrews stood perfectly still. "We're a long way from Earth, and I have a lot of paperwork to do. I'm only really interested in a person's fitness to complete their job to highest expectations. So if you have any complaints or issues related to on-the-job conduct, I'll investigate that. Otherwise, I don't want to hear about it. Do I make myself clear?"

Andrews drew himself up to his full height and stared at a spot over John's shoulder. "Yes, sir."

"So if you have any complaints on anyone's on-the-job conduct, I'll expect that on my desk tomorrow morning. Otherwise, any after-mission verbal comments made to Colonel Carter in the past few days are going to be disregarded as irrelevant."

"Yes, sir," Andrews said again. "Sir?"

Honestly, what part of _shut up and listen_ did these people have trouble with? "What?"

Andrews cleared his throat. "I wanted to say that I understand."

"Good." And because apparently this whole _talking_ thing was contagious, John went on, "You're an officer. The men look to you as a model for acceptable behavior. What I've been hearing over the past few days isn't acceptable on any post, under any commander. I want it to stop. Now."

Andrews nodded, his face going a little pink. John left it at that.

* * *

He met Ronon to spar, got the crap kicked out of him, had a shower and went back to work, feeling refreshed if not entirely satisfied. He'd have to keep an ear out for problems among the men, but that left what he was going to do about Herrera. He had to do _something_. If he did nothing and accusation just _went away_ , it would leave the door open to future accusations of a similar nature.

And the less John Sheppard had to think about the sex lives of his Marines, gay or straight, the happier he'd be.

The answer came to him as he crossed the Gatrium floor on the way to Carter's office. It was so blindingly obvious that John wondered how he could have missed it. With a wide grin, John made his way up to the glass-enclosed room that held Colonel Carter and Major Lorne.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Carter said, eyebrow raised. He realized he was still smiling, and quickly schooled his features. "Is something up?"

"You could say that," John said, settling into a chair with more ease than he normally felt around Carter.

Lorne looked worried. "You're not planning something, are you?" he asked, then added "Sir," as an accusatory afterthought.

"I've solved the issue with Herrera," John said, smiling again at his CO.

"Solved?" Carter repeated. She was beginning to look worried as well.

"Solved," John confirmed. "You know how Lorne's always really busy?"

Carter frowned at the non sequitur. "What does that have to do with anything?"

John shrugged. "Simple. We promote Herrera to Gunnery Sergeant and put him in charge of the Marines. Everyone wins."

Lorne's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Carter, on the other hand, had no problems with speech. "You realize that's not the usually prescribed course of action in cases such as this."

John looked at her. "I believe the word you're look for is 'innovative'."

"If you're certain about this..."

"I am."

Carter rested her chin on her hand and glared at John for a long moment. Then she surprised the hell out of him by saying, "Then fill out the paperwork requesting the promotion and I'll get it to the SGC for approval."

Lorne interrupted. "Not that I don't agree that Herrera deserves the promotion, but do you know the message this is going to send?"

"What, that hard work and dedication to the continued protection of the city and its people will move one up in the ranks?" John asked.

"I guess there's that," Lorne said, still seeming confused.

"Look," John said, throwing off the air of nonchalance. "We need to do something. This solves all our problems."

"Except the Wraith," Lorne muttered to himself.

"Except the Wraith," John amended. "Am I wrong?"

Carter pursed her lips. "Like I said, write it up," she said after a minute. "Now, about that Durrae attack..."

The meeting went on about its prescribed business, but John felt like a certain weight had lifted from his shoulders. It wasn't a happy ending, but it was something.

Outside, the clouds split open and thunder crashed over the city, and John was content.

He loved Atlantis after a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned at the beginning, this story is unfinished (and may stay that way; I don't know if I'll return to it.). This is where things left off. Thanks for reading :) You can find me and my current fics on tumblr at <http://mhalachai.tumblr.com/>


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